A Place Deep Within
by Arsosah
Summary: Darry decided Pony was well enough to go back. To school. To life. Well enough from the concussion, from the loss of Johnny and Dally. I want to scream. He's apparently not well. I'm suddenly scared.
1. My brother smells like cigarettes

**A Place Deep Within**

**First Chapter - My brother smells like cigarettes**

_November 5_

He looks like hell, but he smiles.

"Hey!" He struggles to get up, so I put my hand under his arm, steadying him. He sways a bit when he sits on the bedside.

"Hey," I answer. Then I can't help myself. I hug him, hard, taking a deep breath. He smells different. Something's missing.

"Don't they let you smoke?" I ask, and he shruggs.

"Don't know." He scratches his head. "I don't think so." His hand falls limp back on his knee. I pick up my pack of cigarettes - it's almost empty. I've smoked a lot these days. He takes one, and I look over my shoulder, noticing the open door. No one's there so I flick up my lighter. He coughs at the first drag, but I like to see him smoke. I _need_ to see him smoke. It's _him_. I know I'm selfish.

"Where's Darry?" he asks.

"Talking to... ya know, the doctor." I try to sound normal.

The answer comes quick. "Johnny's doctor?"

I shut my eyes for a moment. If there's a right thing to say, I can't grip it. Instead, I pat him on his shoulder as if he were a puppy.

"Come on, kiddo."

He looks uncertain. "Where we goin'?" His eyes meet mine, and I'm finally able to smile. Almost.

"Home. We're goin' home."

XXX

_6 years earlier - autumn_

_He is small, eight years old but looks like he's six, and he is my little brother. Myself, I turned eleven just days ago, and even if I do love him, I'm a bit tired of playing with him all the time. We used to be tight, but for some reason, the three years between us has started to show. _

_"You're a kid too," Mom says when I complain about Ponyboy, and I groan._

_"Not like Pony," I explain. "He's a _little_ kid. I'm a big kid." She smiles at that, but then gets serious._

_"I only asked you to bring him with you to the park today. I'm really busy. Please, Soda."_

_She says please, but she ain't asking. I know when she gives an order. _

_"Steve's not gonna like it," I say, rolling my eyes, and Mom frowns. _

_"You two boys take good care of Pony, Sodapop. No more arguing." She shoves me out of the warm kitchen. I grimace, but do as she says and walk down the hallway. Pony's in his room at his desk, and I walk across the floor to stand next to him, watching him as he draws a picture. He's good at it. Better than anyone I know._

_"What is it?" I ask, and he points at the two kids on the paper, one at a time._

_"That's me," he says proudly, "and that's you." We both have big, happy, red crayon smiles, and we're apparently holding hands._

_"Oh," I say, and feel a bit bad for not wanting him to come with me today. But my Mom's words are still in my mind, and I force myself to speak. "Wanna come to the park with me?"_

_"Can I?" He brightens up at my question, making me feel bad. I've been avoiding him for a time and I know it._

_"Yeah. Come on, get your jacket."_

_The sky is gray, the streets full of autumn leaves in colorful red, orange, brown and yellow. Pony smiles, kicks them around and jumps in them. He's happy, and I can't help but smile at his cheerfulness. I shove my hands in my pockets when we reach the park. Steve's already there. His face clouds when he sees my brother._

_"Soda," he moans. "I thought..."_

_"It was mom," I say quietly so Pony can't hear. Maybe I don't want him with me this day, but I don't want to be mean and tell him the truth either. "She said I had to bring him with me. I can't do nothin' about it."_

_"Well, I won't play with him anyway," Steve grunts and kicks away a rock. _

_"He can play by himself, we just need to watch 'im," I try to convince my best friend. _

_"Soda, can we go to the swings?" Pony yells, his cheeks and ears are red in the cold air, his eyes shine green. He has forgotten his cap again, and I know I'll be the one to blame when we gets home. I'm the big brother, I should've noticed._

_"Sure," I say, ignoring Steve's annoyed glare. Steve has no brother, and sometimes I think he's jealous of me. He rummages through his pockets while we're walking over to the swings, and when Pony jumps up on one, he finds what he's seeking for. It's a pack of cigarettes. Kools._

_"Look what I got," he says. "Wanna try?" He takes one, lights it, and hands it to me before he lights one for himself. I hold the stick between my forefinger and middle finger and lift it to my mouth. The smoke burns in my chest when I take a drag, and I start coughing. But Steve has smoked before, I can tell. _

_"Soda!" It's Ponyboy, he's left the swings and comes running, halts in the slippery leaves just before us. "What are you doin'?"_

_"Smokin'," I say, holding the cigarette up for him to look at._

_"I thought you were staying at the swings," Steve says, a bit harsh, but Pony ignores him, turning to me._

_"Can I have one?" He looks so innocent._

_"No," I say._

_"Why not? I wanna try too."_

_"Drop it, Pony," I say, trying to be a responsible brother. I scowl and Pony puts out his lower lip._

_"So-daaa..." he whines. I look at Steve for back up, but he grins._

_"Let him." He flicks out his lighter. "He ain't gonna die."_

_I groan inside, squeezing my eyes, sighing. _

_"What ever," I finally blurt out. "But only one, Pone." It can't hurt him, can it? Every greaser I know older than thirteen smokes all the time, except Darry, but he's into football. I think his coach would kill him if he started that bad habit._

_Pony looks almost green after a couple of drags. He drops the cigarette on the ground. _

_We didn't know it then, but it would take three years before he even touches the stuff again. This time it's his eleventh birthday, and he does it just because I was eleven when I started. After that day, he's like a chimney. And my brother always smells like cigarettes._

XXX

_October 10_

His nightmares are gone. I suddenly realize he's been sleeping well since that day in court. I had thought it would be otherwise, after all that happened, the murder, the fire, the deaths of our friends, would affect him at night. But it doesn't. At first I'm thankful. No trashing, no screaming, no kicking, no dark circles under his eyes and mine. I mention it to Darry, and he looks so relieved. We both have been worried far too long. If life can go on, we'll go. Soon it will be like it used to again. _Almost_. I think, with our two dead friends in my mind.

XXX

_October 15- morning_

I make breakfast and he comes out into the kitchen, small and lean. He looks around in the room, at the stove, the counter, the fridge, me.

"You hungry?" I ask.

"Yeah." He takes a seat. Then leans backwards in the chair, rocking it, making the front legs bump in the floor. _Bump... bump... bump..._ His fingers tap the table.

"You want eggs?"

"Mhm."

I take it as a yes. He never spoke much before, but now we often have to drag the words out of him. I'm singing along with the radio in the living room, throwing quick glances at my brother. He just sits there. Waiting. The chair suddenly stops, and he catches the table-top with both of his hands.

"Where are they?" he asks.

"Who?" I reply, putting the eggs in a pan. "Steve and Two-Bit? Guess they're on their way..."

Pony rolls his eyes. "No, not them. Mom and dad."

I turn around, leaning my back against the counter.

"You know where they are, Pone," I say as smooth as I can. I'm just about to answer his question. _They're dead. Buried. Gone._ But he speaks first.

"They didn't come home yesterday," he says. "So where are they?" He discovers a loose thread at his t-shirt and plays with it. I'm silent so long that he looks up.

"What?"

"Pony, I..." I don't know what to say. He frightens me. I close my mouth again, wishing Darry was here. He could fix this, but he's at work. Pony's patient, and a lump in my throat begins to grow, making me unable to speak.

The screen door suddenly slams shut, and I jump at the sound. It echoes in the house, making the morning almost normal. Two-Bit sticks his head in.

"Well hell-oo, Curtis brothers!" he snickers. "How are we today? Ready for school again, kid?" He opens the fridge, rummages through it.

"I guess," Pony says. It's monday morning, and it was this weekend Darry decided Pony was well enough to go back. To school. To life. Well enough from the concussion, from the loss of Johnny and Dally. I want to scream. He's apparently not well. I'm suddenly scared. I don't understand.

"Two-Bit." I almost stutter at the short nick-name, but for some reason, it comes out all right. The redhead looks out from the fridge.

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk in the living room?" He doesn't have the time to answer before I grab his arm, dragging him with me. I push him down on the couch, looking anxious at the kitchen's direction. There are no doors to close between us and Pony's ears, and I throw myself down next to my friend.

"Soda, I'm hungry," he complains and tries to get up, but my grip is firm.

"Listen!" I hiss. "Something's wrong."

He ain't stupid. Maybe he cracks jokes all the time, maybe he has to repeat almost every school year in high school, maybe he's a kleptomaniac, but he ain't stupid. His gray eyes widen, finding mine.

"The concussion?" he asks, cause that's what worries him the most. Despite of what Darry and I tell him, he's still sure it was all his fault. I shake my head. I wish it had been the concussion. That I can deal with. Pony's question, his statement this morning, I can't.

"Two-Bit." I say his name again. Like he could save me. "He asked about mom and dad."

He thinks it over. He doesn't look so upset like I thought he would. Then I realize he doesn't get it.

"Is that bad?" he asks.

"He _asked_ about them! He thinks... he thinks they went out _yesterday_." The words taste bad in my mouth. Two-Bit frowns. I look up. Pony stands in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

* * *

><p>I don't own The Outsiders<p>

Beta-read by **GoldenScorpio11** - thank you so much!


	2. Lie enough and it becomes the truth

**A Place Deep Within**

**Second Chapter - Lie enough and it becomes the truth**

_October 15 - morning_

His green eyes blink. I wonder if he heard me, what I said, but he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he takes the lighter from the coffe table and disappears out onto the porch. I look at Two-Bit.

"Ya sure?" he says, stroking his sideburns. Am I? I heard Pony say it. I just can't believe it. No, I'm not sure what he thinks. What would it make him if I really was?

"I hope not," I mumble, loud enough so Two-Bit can hear me. He nods in agreement and we wait. I don't know what Two-Bit's waiting for, but I'm waiting for my brother, and an explanation. There must be a good one. It takes about seven minutes to finish a cigarette, and he's inside again after five. He stops just inside the door, his back catches it so it won't shut. The small gap in the doorway lets in cold air.

"Aren't you doin' breakfast?" he asks me. Like nothing has happened. I rise.

"Yeah."

Pony follows me out in the kitchen and sits down again. My heart throbs and beats fast. I know I need to talk to him, I just don't know what to say. I turn to the stove, the water in the pan is boiling. One of the egg shells has cracked, white scum floats on the surface.

"Pone..." I begin. He lets out a breath. He knows what I want to talk about, and I don't have to say it.

"Soda," he says quietly. "I'm sorry. I was just... confused."

I should be relieved. But I'm not. Confused is one thing. I've been confused a lot of times. But never at something like this. Pony neither. Some things you just don't forget. Like dead parents. I look at him. His eyes are sad, and I hope it's a good sign. I don't want him sad, but sad is normal. I never thought I would love normal.

"How? I mean, what happened, Pone?"

He looks down. "I... for a moment, it felt like... and it was like..." he stutters, still quietly, then looks up again. "Like it hasn't happened. I don't know, Soda. It just felt strange. I wasn't sure..."

"Okay," I reply. There's not much else I can say, not much else I dare say, and he gives me a little smile. I wonder if we'll be able to pretend this never happened.

The eggs are ready and I pour away the hot water and put them in cold water for a few minutes before I give him one. Meanwhile, Two-Bit sneaks back from our living room, looking between us. At Pony, me, back to Pony. He's unsure of what to do, and remains in the doorway.

"Ain't you hungry?" Pony speaks up, looking at him. Two-Bit empties our fridge just as much as we do. As if Pony gave him permission, he sits down.

"Of course I am, kiddo." His smile is genuine, but I can see him watching Pony's head where he got kicked. Nothing can be seen there. The bump and the wound are under his hair, long gone. If he has a scar, it's hidden.

"Your mom doesn't feed you?" Pony teases him, and I shudder at the word _Mom_, his question still in my mind. _Where's Mom and Dad_, God, Pony, of course you know.

"Soda's a better cook," Two-Bit says and takes an egg, giving me a suspicious gaze. "I can't believe this egg ain't blue. What've you not done to them, Soda?"

_When I'm happy I will color the world. When I'm not, white eggs remain white_, I want to answer, but I don't.

XXX

_October 15 - evening_

Pony's home first, me and Darry arrive at the same time some hours later. Our older brother picks me up at the DX. I tell him about what Pony said in the car, and he clenches his teeth, hard. I'm sure his jaw is hurting when he parks in our driveway. We're still very sensitive when it comes to Pony. I think we always will be.

"Ponyboy?" he shouts while the door closes behind us. I kick off my shoes, tailing behind him. We end up in mine and Pony's room. He lies on the bed, on his back, and his eyes are closed. At first I think he's asleep, but then he turns his head, watching us.

"I know," he says, taking us aback. "Don't look at me that way."

"I'm not," Darry starts. "Pony, about this morning..."

He sits up. Fast. "It wasn't like that," he says. "Can we please talk about somethin' else?"

"It wasn't like what, Pony?" Darry urges. He gives me a glance, and I swallow. He wants me to say something about this, but I can't. I take a safer approach.

"How's school?"

Darry grunts, disapproving of my choice of words, and Pony shruggs.

"Okay."

"The Socs..?" I ask, worried. After all, he was with Johnny that night at the park. Bob Sheldon had a lot of friends.

"Just glares," Pony answers, and I'm sure he's lying. He's too good at it. I see Darry thinks the same, but there are no bruises visible, and Steve didn't mention anything when he came to work after school.

"Steve and Two-Bit hang out with ya during the breaks?" I ask, and Pony nods.

"Johnny wasn't there, though."

We know. We already know Johnny wasn't there. Darry sits down beside him, ready to comfort him when Pony continues. But we're not prepared for what he says, even after the show he put on this morning.

"Maybe he'll be there tomorrow."

I can see Darry stiffen, and I take a step forward.

"Why are you sayin' things like that?" I think I almost scream, but maybe it was just a whisper. Pony looks at me. It must be the concussion, I think, desperately. It's not healed. It's making him confused. That was his word, confused. First about Mom and Dad, then Johnny. Darry frowns at me, stopping me, turning to Pony.

"You know Johnny can't come tomorrow, don't you?" I can tell that he wanted to shake him, but he holds it together. Somehow. Pony gives a brief smile.

"Yeah." Then he looks anxiously at Darry. "No... I mean...why?"

_Johnny ain't dead. Johnny ain't dead._ He said that when he woke up. Every day he convinced himself,_ Johnny ain't dead and Dally ain't dead_. He needed time and he got time. Finally, finally we realized that it caught up with him. This one step, or how ever many steps backwards, is too much. He should be fine. His doctor told us so. Promised us. The concussion wasn't, isn't, permanent. It's healed.

"Pony..." Darry says, pleading. "Remember the hospital? After..." he looks at me, his eyes asking, and I nod. Continue. _You can't make it worse_, my gaze tells him. "After the fire... you and Johnny and Dally..."

"Oh," Pony says, like he gets it. "He's at the hospital."

"He was," Darry corrects him. "You remember you went to see him, after the rumble?"

Pony thinks, then nods. "Yeah, I remember. Me and Dally."

"And then?" Darry pushes smoothly.

"Then... then he told us fighting is no good." Pony suddenly puts a hand in front of his eyes. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Just one more thing, Pone. One more thing. What happened after that?"

I can see what Darry wants. He wants Pony to speak the truth. Make it real.

"He told me to stay gold." And this time he looked more confused than ever. "I don't know what he meant by that."

XXX

_11 years earlier - spring_

_"It wasn't me," he says so convincing that I would have believed him if i didn't know it was a lie. But I saw him. His hand grabbed it, his teeth chomped down. He ate it. He still has crumbs on his cheeks as proof._

_"Pony," I yell. "It was my cookie! You ate yours and then you ate mine!" I point at the empty plate on the coffee table. Before I left to get something from my room, it had a cookie on it._

_"Did not!" he denies._

_"Did too!"_

_"Boys!" Dad says, walking through our screen door. "What's the matter?" His white t-shirt is dirty. He has been playing football with Darry for hours._

_My lip trembles. I point. "He took my cookie and _ate_ it!"_

_"I didn't! It wasn't me!" He shakes his head, light brown-red bangs flying, and looks at Dad for support, but I catch his eyes again._

_"Yeah? Then who was it?" _

_Pony looks around the living room. We're the only ones here, there's no one he can blame. He frowns and starts searching, under the couch, the carpet, on top of the shelves he can reach._

_"What are you doin'?" I ask him. He stands on all four, looking under the coffee table and drags out an old newspaper. It's dated a week ago, and Dad hurries to pick it up before Mom sees he'd left it there._

_"I'm a detective," Pony explains. "I'm lookin' for your cookie." Dad laughs, folding the newspaper, but I step forward, grabbing Pony's arms and making him stand. I poke him in the stomach at every word._

_"It's. In. Your. Tummy!"_

_He looks down at his shirt, like he's searching for a clue._

_"It is?"_

_"Ponyboy!" I'm really mad now. Dad moves fast and catches my hand._

_"Sodapop, don't punch your brother. There's plenty of cookies in the kitchen. Go and ask your Mom for a new one."_

_"I want_ my_ cookie," I say stubbornly. "The one Pony ate." I glare at him, his face crumbles and he starts to cry. Dad picks him up and sits down with him in the armchair. I want to cry too. This ain't fair, and I say it aloud._

_"Sodapop," Dad says. "I'll talk to Pony. Just go and grab another cookie. I promise it'll taste the same."_

_"How do you know?" I mutter as I turn around and walk into the kitchen. Mom stands ready, she's heard it all. She gives me two new cookies._

_"Well, Pony had two, didn't he?" she smiles._

_"He's lying, Mom, " I tell her. "He took it." I can still hear him sob in Dad's lap._

_"It wasn't me. It wasn't," he repeats._

_"I know, sweetheart," Mom says. "But he doesn't know it." She sits down on a chair and I sit down next to her. She tries to explain._

_"You see, Sodapop, Pony has a lively imagination. Sometimes he thinks about something so hard that it becomes the truth."_

_I frown, trying to understand._

_"You mean he didn't eat my cookie?"_

_"Oh, yes, he did," she says. "But he thinks he didn't. Please don't be mad at him, Soda. He's not even three. Here, take one more cookie."_

_"Okay." I can't be mad at him anymore. After all, he's my baby brother. And from that day, I realize he's a good liar. Sometimes he even believes himself, and his lies become the truth. But I can always see it. Always. It's in his eyes. He can never lie to me._

XXX

_October 15 - night_

Pony's asleep and I crawl slowly out of our bed, afraid of waking him up. In the hallway I hesitate outside of Darry's door. I'm quiet enough, he couldn't hear me. When I heard his voice I was startled.

"Come in, Soda."

I open the door, but I remain where I am.

"Darry," I say. "What should we do? He's acting strange."

"Time," he answers. "We'll give him time."

And I wonder what time can do, when it hasn't done anything yet. Time, I realize, is not a comforting word.

* * *

><p>Thank you, <em>thank you<em> for all reviews! They really made my day! I hope you like this chapter too.

Thanks to GoldenScorpio11 for editing.

I also want to say, Yes, Soda and Pony _are_ close. But, there is almost 3 years between them, and sometimes I think it would show. After all, it is a difference between 8 and 11 like in the first flashback. And they are siblings, so of course they fought sometimes during their childhood.


	3. I'm not sick tomorrow

**A Place Deep Within**

**Third Chapter - I'm not sick tomorrow**

_October 16 - noon_

The customer before me clears his throat irately and I'm out of my daze. I apologize while giving him his change. He puts the money in his coat pocket, still glaring at me when he leaves. At the door he meets Steve, and he grunts again. Steve's jump suit has oil stains all over it, his cap's pushed back on his head, and he doesn't move out of the way. I know we lost a customer when he needs to step around my friend to get out, but I really don't care.

"Asshole," Steve mutters as he walks in, for no reason at all. Maybe he saw my face and thought something happened in here. It didn't. I was distracted, it was my fault. "Want a break?" he asks me.

The shop is empty. "Sure."

I place some money in the cash register before I take a new pack of cigarettes from the shelf. Steve eyes me, but doesn't say anything. He knows I only smoke when I'm worried, and he knows what, or who, I'm worried about. There's no need to say it out loud. We light our smokes outside and I shut my eyes, leaning against the brick wall. The sun's warm on my face even if the air is cold.

"He said somethin' more this morning?" Steve asks me, knocking of ash. He means Ponyboy. I open my eyes again and shake my head.

"No." I look at him. "In school?"

"Not that I know of." He takes a deep drag. "But I really didn't see him much." Of course he didn't. He's older, takes different classes.

An old, rusty car drives in, a man steps out and waves at Steve. He sighs and looks at me.

"Don't worry, Soda," he says. "The kid's fine." He throws away his unfinished cigarette and leaves me. I watch as he wipes off his hand on his jumpsuit to shake the man's hand, then opens the hood of the car. Both lean forward, looking inside to find out what's wrong with it. I finish my cigarette and take another one out. I want to go home, but according to the clock, I still have four more hours to go. Time. It's more than it used to be. Before, it was just something that told me when to go to bed, when to get up, when to go to work, or home. Now it supposed to be a medicine too. Heal my brother. Help him in a way I apparently can't, and I feel like a failure.

XXX

_October 16 - evening_

Steve drops me off at home and rejects my invitation. He has a date with Evie tonight, I wave at him and cover our front yard in a few steps. When I get in, I see Pony and Two-Bit on the couch, playing a game of cards. I don't recognize it. I hear Darry in the kitchen, pan's slamming as he makes dinner. Pony looks up and meets my eyes, then he quickly looks down again. He blushes, and I pretend not so see. I don't know why he's embarassed.

"How are ya?" I ask out into the room, and Two-Bit waves with his empty left hand.

"Good, good. Wanna play?"

I throw myself down in the recliner. "No thanks."

"Kid's winning," Two-Bit nods in Pony's direction.

"I'm not!" he protests. "You gave me shitty cards." He dumps some on the table.

I want to ask Two-Bit about the school day, but I can't when Pony's in earshot. Two-Bit should know more than Steve, he's closer to my brother. Pony sniffs.

"You gettin' a cold?" I ask, hopefully. For the first time in my life I wish for it badly. We all know Pony can say strange things when he's sick. That, I can take.

"No."

I raise an eyebrow. Pony never admits it when he feels bad. Darry shouts from the kitchen that dinner's ready, and we all get up.

"Soda," he says when he sees me. "Never heard you come in."

"I didn't mean to sneak," I joke half heartedly. Truth is, I entered the house like someone really was sick in it. Like I used to do on the days Pony was in bed after the rumble. After the kick in his head. I wish I had killed that Soc, his foot apparently still hurts my brother. This must be his fault, I have to blame someone.

Pony's quiet, but the rest of us try to make small talk. Darry tells us something that happened at work. Two-Bit laughs, and I smile. I didn't really listen, and Darry glances at me. I used to pay attention when he spoke.

"Sorry," I say, and he gets it. I know he's worried too.

Pony puts down his fork, his food not even half eaten.

"Can I go?"

"Eat some more," Darry says and points with his knife at Pony's plate, but Pony shakes his head.

"I ain't hungry."

"You aren't gettin' a fever, are you?" I ask and we rise at the same time. I corner him and lay my hand on his forhead before he manages to jerk away. He's cool.

"Soda, come on," he sighs. "I ain't sick."

"I know," I say, but I'm not sure if I believe it. There's many ways to be sick. But like always, he'll hide it as long as he can.

XXX

_Four years earlier - christmas_

_I'm up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and when I hear a small sound I check the living room. My brother's awake, on the couch._

_"Waitin' for Santa?" I joke, but he doesn't laugh, just looks at me._

_"No." I can tell he rolls his eyes, even if it's to dark to see."I stopped believe in Santa when I was seven, Soda," he states matter-of-factly. Of course, he's ten, and he's smart. He was put up a grade in school this year._

_I take a leak, and then return to him. He's covered up by the quilt Mom has made, and I sit down next to him._

_"What's the matter?" I ask. _

_"I just couldn't sleep." His eyes avoiding mine. I know he's hiding something. I can feel him shiver beside me, and instinctly I touch his face. He's burning._

_"You have a fever," I tell him. "I'll get Mom."_

_"No," he groans. "I'm okay!"_

_"No, you're not, and I'll get Mom," I repeat. I get up on my feet and take a step, but his hand shoots out and he grabs my arm._

_"Don't tell her! I don't want to be sick on christmas!" he pleads with me. My eyes got so used to the dark that I can see a tear on his cheek. I sit down again, and my arm finds its way around his shoulder. He stops crying._

_"Pone, you're sick whether Mom knows it or not."_

_"Maybe I'll be better tomorrow and she'll never know," he tries. "I'm not that sick. Just a little warm, is all." The only light in the room is from the moon, and his face looks pale in the silvery gleam. I know he hates to be sick, and he always pretends he's not, until Mom or Dad, or even I, discover it. I don't know how many times the school has had to call home for Mom to come and get him, cause he never told her of the mornings that he didn't feel well. And once he threw up in the grocery store. I remind him about that and he makes a sour face._

_"That was different," he says. "I was little then."_

_"It was last year."_

_"No, it wasn't." He yawns and wipes his nose with the sleeve of his pajamas. "Look, Soda, it's snowing!" I turn my head to the window, the snow is falling fast, there's tons it. Tons of big snow flakes. It's beautiful._

_"Sodapop and Ponyboy!" Mom stands in the doorway of the living room, her arms folded in front of her. "Why are you two up in the middle of the night?"_

_"Pony's sick," I say, and he pushes me gently as a protest. Mom walks over and places her hand on his forhead._

_"Poor baby," she says, and Pony grimaces. In Mom's eyes, Pony's always the little one. Her last and youngest. It's strange that he never seems to get used to being spoiled. "I'll get you an aspirin." She disappears into the kitchen and comes back with the white pill and a glass of water. Pony swallows and then sighs._

_"Go back to bed now," Mom says. "Both of you."_

_"I won't be sick tomorrow," Pony tells her. "I promise."_

XXX

_October 17 - morning_

"Can you convince Pony to get up?" Darry asks me as I step out from the bathroom after my shower. "He's gonna be late." He throws a glance at his wrist watch and makes a grimace.

"Yeah, sure," I say. I open our door and my eyes fall on the bed, but Pony's not there. He sits at his desk with a book in his hands. I recognize it. It's Johnny's book, the one me and Darry got from the nurse after Johnny passed away. _Gone with the Wind_.

"You're readin'?" I ask, even though I can see he hasn't opened the book. He just stares at the cover.

"This is wrong," he says in a surprised tone. "It's not the same picture."

"What do you mean?" I walk to stand beside him.

He looks up at me, and I wonder when his face became so sunken. "It's wrong," he says again, and puts a hand on his temple. I know the sign, he has a headache. But I leave it for the moment. Something else is wrong too. The feeling I get isn't good.

"What picture?"

He holds up the book. "The cover. It's different. It's not the same book Johnny bought in Windrixville." He almost throws it in my hands, and I take it.

"This is the one Two-Bit bought at the hospital," I explain. I know the story, Two-Bit told me about it. How he returned with it and Johnny fainted. It was the last time Two-Bit saw him alive, but he didn't know it then. He had blinked away tears when he told me that. And then, after the rumble, when we took Pony to the hospital, the nurse gave us the book. "The one Johnny bought was destroyed in the fire. Remember?"

After a while he nods, but he's still not pleased. "But why is it here?" He stares at it.

"He gave it to you. Wanted you to have it." It feels like I'm talking to a little kid. Pony already knows all this. It's like my brother has disappeared and someone else has taken his place. The young boy in front of me isn't Ponyboy. He's too... dull. Slow. God, I hate this moment. I hate it when he speaks this way.

"Yeah," he says. "So I can read it to him."

"So you _could_," I try, hoping he'll catch up. He gives me a foolish smile and I relax. He's okay.

"Yeah, I still have school, right?" He takes the book from me. "But maybe I can go afterwards?"

"Go where?" I'm almost to afraid to ask, and I hope he'll say the cemetary. Please, let him say the cemetary. He hasn't been there yet, hasn't seen the graves. He's been too sick, the concussion, the shock, the exhaustion. The denial. But now he must be better, and maybe it's a good thing if he went there.

"To the hospital," he says. "To visit Johnny."

* * *

><p>Please review. Criticism are welcome!<p>

Thanks to all readers/reviews and of course GoldenScorpio11 for editing.


	4. Tell him he's dead

**A Place Deep Within**

**Fourth Chapter - Tell him he's dead**

_October 17 - midday_

"You'll stay with him?" I ask while I put my shoes on. I try to delay as much as I can, I don't want to leave.

"Of course." Two-Bit sits on the couch, a beer in his hand. Pony stayed home from school today, and Two-Bit ditched his last class to watch him. Pony's statement this morning, about Johnny, made it impossible for us to let him go. We have to face it, he's going downwards. I think it's bad this time. He's so far in denial that I almost can't stand it, and I don't get why. What's going on in his head? There's a difference between pretending Johnny ain't dead, and actually believing he's alive. Where did it come from? I wish I could stay home, but I have to go to work, and I can't leave him alone either.

"The whole time? Darry gets back at seven." I look for my jacket and find it on the floor beside the couch.

"Soda," Two-Bit says, assuring me. "I won't leave him." His voice is serious, and I nod at this. I know I can trust him.

"Call me, if he, you know, says somethin'."

"I will." He's being patient with me. I watch him as he takes a sip of his beer.

"Thanks," I tell him. Then I shout to Pony, who's in our room. "Bye, Pone!" I wait a couple of minutes, there's no answer. But then he comes out. He stands in the hallway, looking at me, one hand grips the opposite upper arm.

"Bye." He walks over to the TV and hits the power button, then walks to the couch and sits down.

"I'm bored, kiddo," Two-Bit says to him and puts his empty beer can on the coffe table. "You wanna do somethin'?" Pony shruggs, his eyes glued to the TV, and I force myself to leave. I'm late. Steve's in his car on the curb, and I jump into the passenger seat.

"God, Steve," I say, hiding my face in my palms, finally able to break down some. "He thinks Johnny's alive." Steve's silent as he turns his key and drives off. After a while, I look up. His hands grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white.

"Steve," I say. "What the hell are we gonna do?"

"What have you done so far?"

What have we done? Nothing, just as the doctor ordered us to. He told us not to mention what happened to Johnny and Dally. That Pony would know, would remember when he was ready for it. What if he's not? What if he never will be?

"Just tell him," Steve advises when he gets tired of my silence. "Tell him he's dead."

I shake my head. "How?"

"Just... say the words. Christ, Soda, you've got to do somethin'. I mean, this ain't good. They're dead and he'll have to accept it. Like we do." He throws a quick glance in my direction. "We miss them too, ya know. We all lost them." I hear the pain in his voice.

I sigh. "I know... I know. I'll talk to him." But I remember the last time someone did.

XXX

_Two weeks ago - autumn_

_The knock on the door startles us. No one ever knocks, a knock means it's someone who doesn't know us. It always made us think about bad news because of the night Mom and Dad died and the cops came to tell us. They knocked. But the curly haired boy that stands on the other side is a surprise. I stare at him._

_"Hi," he says, uncertainly. "Does Ponyboy live here?"_

_I don't answer. I can't. What does he want with my brother?_

_"I'm Randy," he tells me. "You're Ponyboy's brother?" He shifts uneasy at my gaze. I think he realizes a Soc doesn't stand high in this house, in this neighbourhood. Of course he knows. Especially now. My brother ran away because of what some Soc forced his friend to do. He has been sick because of a kick from a Soc. Our whole life is a mess because of Socs. This boy's brave, I have to admit._

_"I just want to talk to him. I've done it before. Ask him." He nods in Two-Bit's direction, and I frown, turning to him. He's never mentioned it._

_"Yeah, he did," Two-Bit says. " Invited the kid into his Mustang." He makes the word 'Mustang' sound like a mockery."Before the rumble," he adds._

_"I wasn't in it," Randy says quickly. "I just... couldn't." I can tell. All of us in this room have bruises or stitches, but his face is clean. No scratch at all. _

_"Why?" I ask, but he just shruggs. Apparently, he won't tell me. I still hesitate at the door, and finally Darry gets up from the recliner, tired of no action from my side._

_"I'll ask Pony if he wants to see you," he tells Randy._

_I hope not. I don't want my brother near any Soc. Even if they seem nice._

_"Thanks," Randy says quietly. I won't let him in before Darry's back, and meanwhile we stare at each other in silence. Then I hear Darry from behind me._

_"Let him in, Soda." I unwillingly take a step back, and Randy follows. "Down the hallway," Darry points, he nods and disappears into our room._

_"You sure about this?" I whisper harshly to Darry while I close the door again. He shruggs._

_"Pony said he wanted to see him."_

_"Yeah, but..."_

_"We're here, Soda. What can happen?"_

_He's probably right. What can happen? We sit on the couch, waiting. And when it comes, we fly up._

_"Johnny ain't dead!" Pony yells. "He ain't dead!"_

_A minute later Randy comes out into the living room, a bit pale. Darry takes his arm, leading him to the front door._

_"Don't talk to him about Johnny," he says. "His doctor told us to give him time..." He follows Randy out and I go to see Pony. He's lying in bed, as he's ordered to do, and stares up at the ceiling. A cigarette burning between his fingers, and I take it away from him to put it out in the ashtray before he sets the bed on fire._

_"Pone?" I ask. There's no reaction and I sit down on the bedside, next to him. "Hey, Pone?" No answer, and I shake his shoulder gently. "Ponyboy!" Nothing, and I start to get desperate. I lean close to him, searching for something in his eyes. They're empty. I shake him more. "Pony, wake up! Pony!"_

_His eyes finally move as he notices me._

_"Yeah?"_

_I'm relieved. "You okay?"I whisper, knowing the answer should be 'No'. But it's not._

_"Yeah."_

_Liar._

XXX

_October 17 - midday_

We're halfway to the DX when I snap.

"Turn around. I can't do this."

Steve looks at me like I'm crazy. "Do what?"

"Work," I explain. "I can't work. Drive me home."

He sighs. "Soda," he starts, but then just shakes his head. "You're going to lose your job," he warns me. I know he's right. I could lose it. I haven't been there much since Pony went missing and now that he's sick. Like I care. I can get a new job, but I can't get a new brother. I tell Steve that, and he hits the brake, making the driver behind us honk. Steve gives him the bird when he makes a u-turn.

The road home has never been longer, and I'm out of the car before Steve even has the chance to stop. He mutters something inaudible when I slam the door shut and rush in. If Two-Bit's surprised when I come in, he doesn't show it. Maybe he figured I would come back. I sit down next to Pony.

"What're you watchin'?"

"Some old movie," Pony says in a bored tone. "I've already seen it." He gives me a strange look. "Thought you were working today?"

"Yeah," I say, and I don't know how to continue. He helps me.

"Sick?"

"Somethin' like that," I answer. I can't tell him it's_ him_. He doesn't even know why he's home today, Darry made something up about school being closed. He doesn't seem to care. He leans back against the couch, staring at the black and white screen.

XXX

_October 18 - morning_

I woke up a couple of hours ago, but can't fall back to sleep. The dream I had was bad, and I wonder if it was like the ones Pony used to have. He's asleep next to me, his breathing is slow, calm. For some reason, I miss comforting him in the nights. I'm glad his nightmares seem to be gone, but I can't help wondering why. With everything else going on, I start seeing it as a bad sign.

I sigh and turn myself around. Lying on my back I stare out into the pitch dark room, listening to my brother's breaths. I want to wake him up, shake him, make him come back again. I'm afraid of what he'll say today.

And when he finally wakes, my heart sinks even more.

"Hey, Soda," he yawns. He sits up at the bedside, rubbing his eyes. "What day is it?" he asks.

"Thursday," I answer, eyeballing him. His hair's still too short for him, still bleached, but I can see his natural color at the roots. It's growing. He looks younger with that hair cut. He always has, but now more than usual. Like he's twelve and not fourteen. His lanky arms and the innocent look in his eyes doesn't make it any better. Innocent. He shouldn't be. Almost a year ago, in January, he lost his parents. Three weeks ago, he lost two friends. His best friend. His eyes should be older. Harder. More angry at the world. Sadder. Instead, he looks like an unaware child. I don't know if I should be thrilled, happy, scared or hate it. All I know is that I want another reaction from him, one that we haven't gotten yet.

"Strange," he says and sits still.

"What?" I ask, sitting up behind him, and he throws a glance over his shoulder.

"I thought it was... I don't know. Just not Thursday." He frowns. "I didn't run track yesterday. I always do on Wednesdays."

"You were home yesterday," I say, biting my lip.

"I was? Why?"

I want to holler at him, but of course, I don't. How can he not remember? He doesn't wait for my answer. Instead he reaches for his jeans on the floor, starting to get dressed. He finds a new pair of socks and a shirt in his dresser. He rummages around his desk for his school books and drops them in his bag. When he does, one of his other books falls to the floor. He bends down to pick it up, and then I see which book it is.

"Pony," I say when he puts it in his bag.

"Yeah?"

"You can't..." I don't know what to say.

"Can't what?"

_You know you can't visit Johnny. _No, I can't say that. I'm too afraid of what the answer will be if I tell him this. So I try something else.

"I think you should leave that book home."

The look he gives me is a funny one. He raises one eyebrow, or at least tries to, he almost manages.

"Why?"

I lick my underlip, nervous. Damn, Pony's so different I don't even recoginize myself anymore. I don't know how to act, how to react, what to be or what to do. And what to say is hardest of all.

"Come on, Pone," I say. "Ya know," I try, and hope he really does this time.

"Soda, you're strange," he laughs at me and leaves the room. I hurry up and follow him with only my boxers on. I catch up with him in the kitchen, Darry sits at the table, looking at Pony.

"Pone," I say again. "Listen to me. What are you doin' with that book?"

"I thought it was mine," Pony says and sits down. He takes a sandwich Darry has made and starts to eat. He turns to Darry. "I won't be home right after school today," he says.

"Why?" Darry frowns.

"I'm gonna visit Johnny." He keeps eating. I look at Darry, desperately. His face is unreadable. He reaches over the table and grabs Pony's hand.

"Pony," he says, and our younger brother's eyes narrow. He stops chewing, swallows. Darry sighs and then just lets it out. "Pone, Johnny is dead. You know that. You where there, at the hospital, after the rumble, when he...-"

"Okay," Pony says quickly, interrupting him. But he refuses to meet our eyes. I stand stiff on the floor, positive that Darry's words didn't reach him.

* * *

><p>Thank you so much for all reviews, and to my beta-reader GoldenScorpio11.<p> 


	5. I am not there

**A Place Deep Within**

**Fifth Chapter - I am not there**

_October 18 - morning_

Darry sends Pony to school with Two-Bit and Steve. He has an hour before he goes in today, and I'm working evening again.

"What?" he asks when he notices me staring at him with my arms folded.

"You can't just do that," I say. "Send him to school like... like it's nothin'."

Darry puts down the newspaper. "Soda, he needs normal routines. You heard him today, he _knows_. He agreed with me." The paper rustles, his eyes turn down again.

"Yeah, but..." I start pacing back and forth in the living room. "I'm not sure, Dar. I don't know if I believe he really..." I stop. "I think you should call his doctor. Just for a check up."

"He hates doctors," Darry sighs, without looking up.

I know he's right. "Darry," I say anyway. "Call him. Doctor... doctor whats-his-name." I feel ashamed that I don't remember. "It can't hurt," I add, with effort.

"Wilkins. His name's Neil Wilkins." Darry thinks it over for a while, then sighs. "All right. I'll call him later."

I don't know why this doesn't calm me down.

XXX

_October 18 - evening_

Pony and Two-Bit are in the kitchen when I get home from work. I take one look at the mess around the stove before I escape to the bathroom, hoping we will get dinner tonight. Darry called me at the gas station to say he's gonna be late, over time duty, and I begged Pony to make dinner when he came down to the DX during lunch break. He promised to try, and a smiling Two-Bit offered to help. I was thankful then, now I regret it. But when I'm clean, half an hour later, I'm surprised. Mashed potatoes in a bowl, chicken on a plate, the dishes they used in a stack on the counter.

"Who made this?" I ask them when I sit down, and Two-Bit puts on a proud expression.

"I did."

"Did not," Pony replies and looks like he wants to stick out his tongue. He turns to me. "He didn't do nothin'."

Two-Bit rolls his eyes at the comment. "I peeled the potatoes," he protests, gesturing at the bowl, earning a laugh from Pony.

"Only one, and I had to show him how to do it," he tells me. I laugh with him, and suddenly everything feels normal. It feels like before. I briefly meet Two-Bit's eyes, and the look in them tells me he feels the same. We have a good time during dinner, but as I should have learned by now, good times don't last forever. Pony suddenly speaks about our friends, in a way like they could show up at our house at any moment. That goes for Steve, but Johnny and Dally will never use our front door again. Me and Two-Bit puts down our forks, swallowing lumps, but Pony's still talking. My quiet brother acts like himself again, but the things around him don't match with what he says. I hate what I have to do.

"... and you remember that Cherry girl? I wonder what Dally'll say when he hears that she-" Pony keeps babbling while he leans his chin in one hand, sticks his fork in a piece of chicken with the other, and the urge to speak picks at me.

"Pony, we have to talk," I stick in, and he becomes silent, looking at me with a curious gaze.

Two-Bit coughs in his hand.

"Soda," he says quietly, and I look at him. He knows what I'm up to. "Do we have to do this now?" I know why he asks. He was here when that Soc, Randy, was here. He remembers Pony's reaction.

"Cause, ya know, I don't think I'm good at this, um, talkin'," he says, glancing at Pony. My brother turns to us.

"What are you talkin' about?" he asks. "Talk about what?"

And I say it. "Johnny. We've got to talk about Johnny and Dally."

"What about them?" Pony eyes me suspiciously. He drops his fork to lean back in the chair, folding his arms. "What?" he urges.

"You _know_, Pony. Darry told you this morning..." I trail off. His eyes have become big. Scared.

"Soda." His voice is quiet this time. "Don't lie to me."

"I would never do that," I assure him. "Never."

He looks at me, suddenly harsh. "Darry did."

"What? No, Pone, he didn't-"

"He _did_! He said he's dead, he said Johnny is..." he stops himself, unable to say it out loud.

I shut my eyes for a moment, wishing I'd kept my mouth shut. I should have waited for Darry.

"I don't know why he said it," Pony continues, and this time, his eyes dart around, but they never land on me or Two-Bit. "He ain't. He just ain't. So don't say it."

"Pony, listen," I say, trying to grab his hands over the table. "Darry didn't lie to you..."

"_No_, Soda!" he yells and jerks his hands away. "Not everyone. Mom and Dad and Johnny and Dally. It ain't fair and they all ain't gone! You promised you wouldn't lie."

"I'm not," I try, but he gets up on his feets, and when I try to stop him, he pushes me away. I'm stronger than him, but he's angry. He can't slam me into the wall, but for a second I lose my balance.

"Pony," Two-Bit rises behind us and tries to help, but Pony only yells.

"Shut up! Both of ya, _shut up_!" He pulls himself away from me and storms out of the kitchen. The screen door slams and I rush to it, Two-Bit follows. When we run towards the lot I remember the last time we rushed this way. The night of the rumble, after Pony had told us Johnny died. We ran to save Dally, but we were too late, were forced to see him go down.

And Pony went down too. He hasn't been himself since.

My brother is the fastest runner out of all of us, but we reach him when he suddenly stops on the outskirt of the lot. He points with his whole arm at the tree far on the other side, turning to me, smiling as the tears flow down his cheeks.

"I told you he ain't dead! I_ told_ you!" he says, suddenly happy, and my heart nearly stops at the same time my feet do. Two-Bit crashes into me, and we both stare at Pony. "I told you!" he repeats and turns away again, facing the tree, but his expression changes fast. His arm drops down and for a moment everything's still, so quiet, and he turns around again, sees the look in our eyes. "Where did he go?" he asks, taking a step backwards. "He was there!"

"He was, Soda!" he repeats when no sound comes out of my open mouth. I have lost all my air.

"Soda..." he says, his eyes still darting. "Where did he go?"

"Pone..." I whisper, trailing off, meeting his eyes. By my side Two-Bit stands frozen in place.

"I saw him Soda. I did. I know I did." Pony's voice pleads, his look is devastating. "He was there! I _saw_ him..." He looks so lost when he glances at the tree and the empty space beneath it.

I grab his arm, jerking him against me and I hold him tight. He's trembling.

I think I am too.

XXX

_Eight months earlier - winter_

_This is wrong. We're three people around a table, three _kids_ around a table, discussing our parent's funeral. But when Darry speaks of flowers and Pony of music, all I can think of is how wrong it is. Someday every child, a grown up child, an old child, will bury their parents, but to us, it's too early. We're too young. Darry's only going on twenty, but the scowl he got the night the cops knocked on our door is still there. Today he's shaved, but I know he only did it for us, for me and Pony. He tries to stay strong for us. _

_Pony's only thirteen, a baby, he needs his Mom and Dad. The way he has been acting, talking, since the accident makes me almost even sadder than the loss. I don't want him to lose what's him. I can only hope me and Darry will be able to raise him like he deserves. I know what people used to say about me. Happy-go-lucky-Soda. The smiling boy, the bouncy one that never sits still. I used to be reckless. I wonder if I ever will be the old Sodapop again, the one I know Pony needs me to be._

_"Huh?" I say when I realize that both of my brothers are staring at me, and I give them the smile I know they want. Even when it's hard, I'll give it to them. If that's what it takes to make them go forward, I always will._

_"So what do you think?" Darry asks, and I have no clue what he's talking about. But I nod in agreement. I don't want to do this anyway._

_"Darry," Pony says quietly, fidgeting. "It's somethin' I wanna do. I mean, read... a poem. If that's okay," he adds quickly, like he's afraid we'll say No._

_"If you're sure," Darry says at the same time I say "What poem?", trying to pay attention this time._

_Pony blushes some._

_"Yeah, I'm sure." He answers Darry, then glances at me. "Just a poem, Soda."_

_Pony hates to speak in front of people. And our parent's funeral will be crowded. Mom and Dad's friends. Our friends. Dad's collegues from work. _

_"It's nice that you want to do this for Mom and Dad," Darry says, but Pony shakes his head._

_"I ain't doin' it for them. I'm doin' it for us."_

_He doesn't say anything more about it, and a week later, we take the truck to church. The sight of two coffins is enough to make me bawl, and Pony sniffs red-eyed beside me. Only Darry's eyes are dry, and I know why. I only wish he knew he didn't have to hold them back for us. We can handle his tears._

_The ceremony is beautiful, but I can't stand it. I wish I was home, trying to be like before, to live. I'm not sure how, though, how to live again, but this, the funeral, is killing me. Pony grabs my hand and we cry together when the priest talks and Mom's friend sings a song. Then Pony stands up. He looks so small in front of the coffins, and his hands shake when he picks up a piece of paper. He's brave, this little kid. He doesn't look up, but when he starts reading, his voice is steady._

_And the poem grips at my heart, makes me understand we can do this. We're always gonna miss them, but we can live again. We can go on._

_Do not stand at my grave and weep_

_I am not there, I do not sleep_

_I am a thousand winds that blow_

_I am the diamond glints on snow_

_I am the sun on ripened grain_

_I am the gentle autumn rain_

_When you awaken in the morning's hush_

_I am the swift uplifting rush_

_Of quiet birds in circled flight_

_I am the soft stars that shine at night_

_Do not stand at my grave and cry_

_I am not there, I did not die_

_My brother's voice silences, and he returns to my side._

_"That was good, Pone," I whisper to him. He gives me a small, sad, smile._

_"You think they are?" he asks. "Like... around?"_

_"Yeah," I say. "Like what you read."_

XXX

_October 18 - late evening_

Darry steps drowsily through the door, glancing at Pony on the couch. I can tell he knows something's wrong. The way me and Pony sit, our expressions, tell him. He takes off his jacket and hangs it up on the hook, the only one who actually uses it. He looks at me.

"Pone," I say quietly. "Why don't ya go to our room?" He doesn't say anything. He hasn't talked to me since we got him into the house again after he rushed out. But he gets up on his feet and leaves, the door down the hallway slams shut.

"Something happened," I start, and Darry sits down next to me. I tell him everything and he sighs.

"I don't know," I say, bewildered. "I don't know what to do."

"It's the same as before," Darry tries to comfort himself and me. "He protects himself from gettin' hurt. He just pretends."

But I shake my head. It's not anything like before. "No, it ain't it," I reply. "It's somethin' else this time." I take a deep breath, and then I say it. Blurt it out. "I think he's losing it, Darry."

* * *

><p>I don't own The Outsiders and I don't own the poem. It's written by Mary Elizabeth Frye and are one of my favorite poems.<p>

Please review, and thank you to all who reads/reviews!

I guess you already know, but this story is NOT supernatural, so Johnny is NOT a ghost. Just wanted to tell you.


	6. People dressed in white

**A Place Deep Within**

**Sixth Chapter - People dressed in white**

_October 19 - morning _

"I don't want to," I can hear Pony tell Darry. I walk into the living room, trying to rub the tiredness out of my eyes. Last night had been sleepless for me, and apparently for my older brother too. He sits on the couch, turning his head towards me. Pony stands in the middle of the floor, his slender arms crossed.

"Why do I have to?" Pony continues. "Last time was the last, you _said_ so." His voice is stern, angry. Childish. He doesn't look at me when he speaks. "Soda, tell him."

"What?" I run a hand through my messy hair. Pony's lips are pressed hard together, his determined eyes meet Darry's.

"He doesn't want to see Dr. Wilkins," Darry explains tiredly. He drags his hand over his mouth.

"Why should I?" Pony asks. "He said the concussion was healed. Right, Soda?"

I know why he turns to me. He wants me to pick his side, and I don't really get why. Two against one still won't make him win over Darry. I stand uncomfortably on the carpet, hating to be in the middle. But this time, I must disagree with him. After all, it was my suggestion to call the doctor.

"Just one more check up," I say, feeling like a traitor, and Pony's eyes narrow.

"I don't _need_ a check up. I'm fine!"

"Then you don't have to worry, do you?" Darry speaks up, and Pony grumbles. Then it hit me, Pony's talking again. He didn't say a word to me last night. "I've already called him, he'll show up at noon," Darry continues.

"What about school?" Pony tries, knowing Darry thinks it's important. "I've already missed several weeks."

"You can miss one more day. You're smart, you'll catch up," Darry assures him, and Pony frowns.

"You can't make me talk to him," he threatens.

"Then don't. But you _are_ seeing him." Darry rises and leaves for the kitchen, indicating that the conversation is over. Pony glares, avoiding me when he passes and disappears into our room. I stand still. My thoughts about yesterday race through my head. It was dark, the only light came from the street lamps. He didn't see Johnny, he just thought he did. He _wanted_ to see him, he _used_ to see him sitting there, smoking under the oak tree, of course his eyes betrayed him. Dusk and darkness can trick you easily. Pony's not crazy. He's just sad. He's always been sensitive, always a dreamer, of course tragedy will strike him harder. Four deaths of loved ones in less than a year is too much for anyone. Especially him. I know him. The doctor doesn't, and suddenly I'm afraid that this is a mistake. My body chills over when I think about it, the '_What If_ ' strikes me.

"What if they take him away?" I exclaim to Darry, standing in the doorway. His eyes turn from the frying pan to me.

"They won't."

"But what if?" I persist. "What did you tell him?"

"The doctor?"

"Yeah, him. Wilkins."

"I told him what you told me."

I bite my lip. He told him that Pony saw Johnny. _Thinks he saw._

"What if they lock him up or somethin'? Drug him? Darry, he needs _us_. Not a hospital. You know what he thinks of those places."

Darry turns the bacon over. "You've changed your mind?"

I stare at him. Yes, I have. If I can't handle this, how can a stranger? Of course, Dr. Wilkins had seen Pony before. He helped us out in court, making sure Pony didn't have to speak about the night when Bob died. But he's not a friend. I'm not sure we can trust him.

"Yeah."

Darry closes his eyes. I can read him, I know what he thinks. What he feels. He feels like me, like we have failed Pony. We were supposed to take care of him, but we didn't.

"Soda, I'm not sure we can handle this on our own. If he really thinks he _saw_ Johnny at the lot..." he shakes his head. "I'm only his guardian, Soda. I'm not a doctor."

"I know," I reply.

"I won't let them take him." He takes the milk out of the fridge. "Pony'll stay home. I promise."

XXX

_Nine years earlier - summer_

_They put up a new playground at the park. The old, wooden and decayed monkey bar's replaced by metal ones, and three new swings catch all the kids attention. The four of us, me, Steve, Johnny and Pony sit in the grass, watching the workers. At first, my kid brother's upset._

_"Soda, they destroyin' it!" he complains when they trash the jungle gym. He loves to climb on it._

_"No, they'll build a new one," I say. "Look."_

_Our mom and Steve's mom sit on a bench nearby, drinking coffee and talking._

_"Don't go to close," Mom shouts when we get up on our feet to get a closer look."You can hurt yourselves."_

_"We won't," I holler back._

_The workers wear jeans and helmets, and they're annoyed in the heat._

_"Beat it," one of them snaps at us when he walks by with a shovel in his hand._

_"Screw you!" Steve sneeres back. I'm glad his mom doesn't hear. I know my Mom wouldn't be happy about the language. I take his arm and drag him back a bit. "Soda!" he complains. I look around for Pony and Johnny. They have gone to the other side of the playground, climbing around in the pile of wooden pieces that was the old jungle gym. And then it happens. Pony's foot slides between two poles and then it's stuck, he falls. When his eyes meet mine I know it's bad._

_"Mom!" I shout while I rush to him. One of the workers are already there, lifting away Johnny and then kneeling beside my brother. Pony's pale, but he doesn't cry. Yet. He's too shocked._

_"Oh my God," Mom yells when she sees the small bit of a white bone sticking out from my brother's broken ankle. And now Pony's face crumples._

_"Ma'am, you need to calm down," the worker says to Mom while he picks up Pony, and Mom really tries to. Mrs. Randle puts her arm around her shoulder and whisper something in her ear, then turns her head, looking in our direction._

_"Steve," she says. "Take Soda and Johnny to Soda's house. I'll be right there."_

_"No way," I tell her."I'll stay with Pony." Mom's too upset to argue with me, and Steve looks around, not sure what to do. Johnny hides behind us. So we all stay until the ambulance arrives. I don't know who called for it._

_The paramedics put a needle in Pony's hand, and he cries. Mom's allowed to sit in the back with him, and they tell me to sit in the front._

_"Are you gonna start the sirens?" I ask, wide-eyed, and the driver smiles._

_"Yeah, son," he says. And I think it's tuff to ride in an ambulance, Pony and his leg are almost out of my mind, but only almost._

_Tulsa's hospital is big. They put Pony on a gurney and roll away with him. Mom grips my hand hard and drags me along. She places me in a chair in a corner of the room, and people dressed in white hover around my brother. One time, when one of them moves, I can see his face. He's terrified. He's in pain. He sees me and sticks out his hand, the hand with the needle in it._

_"Soda!" he moans behind his tears, and I get up to go to him. But one doctor stops me with a hand on my shoulder._

_"Go sit down!" he yells in my face and points to the chair. Pony's eyes widen. Mom takes my hand and we're back in the corner again._

_"He needs to have a surgery," the doctor tells Mom, and suddenly they leave the room with Pony without telling us where they're going. Mom's sad and pale._

_We have to wait for hours, and Mom calls Dad. He and Darry show up, and we eat in the cafeteria. Me and Darry are allowed to pick which cookie we want, and I take one with chocolate. Mom frowns when she sees me pack the cookie in my napkin, her coffee remains untouched._

_"Soda?" she asks, and I look up._

_"It's for Pony," I say. That makes her smile for the first time since the accident._

_And finally we're allowed to see him. He's dopey, has a cast up to his knee, and is afraid of the people dressed in white._

XXX

_October 19 - noon_

Dr. Wilkins shows up. He's in his sixties and looks exactly like a nice doctor, white hair, white beard, a friendly face. It's only his clothes that are different. He's not wearing white, just regular clothes, and I'm thankful for it. It's Darry who opens the door, but I'm close behind when he lets him in and invites him to sit. Wilkins takes the recliner, me and Darry plop down on the couch, flanking Pony on both sides. He has a cigarette between his lips, and I know it's his third in a row. I can tell he wants to leave.

"So, Ponyboy," Dr Wilkins says. "You remember me, do you? You know why I'm here?"

"Yeah," he says and rolls his eyes. "I ain't..." he silences and looks down.

"You're not...?" Wilkins asks gently.

"I ain't stupid." He looks embarassed, takes a drag, blowing out.

"Who said you were?"

"No one."

"You want to tell me how you feel?"

Pony's gaze is fixed at the cigarette between his fingers, the smoke's whirling to the ceiling. Ash falls from the stick to the floor, but Pony doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm fine."

He's not.

Dr. Wilkins asks mildly to speak with Pony alone, and Darry allows. He stays on the couch when our youngest brother and the doctor walk to our bedroom, but I can't sit still. I take my flight to the porch, bringing Pony's pack of kool's in my hand.

_What are they talking about?_

_What is Pony saying?_

_Is my brother crazy?_

_Is he?_

_He didn't see Johnny._

I smoke one, I smoke number two and three and four. I smoke myself to nausea, and I keep smoking, until I feel someone grab my arm and I jerk. It's Darry, and Dr. Wilkins stands behind him.

I say nothing, but Darry does.

"We have three options," he says, turning to Dr. Wilkins. The man clears his throat, and I'm afraid of what he'll say. His judgement.

"Well," he starts. "It's obvious Ponyboy doesn't really assimilate what happened that night your friends died."

"He's not crazy," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "He's not," I add, trying to sound calmer this time. Trying to sound normal. We're a normal family. Orphans, sure. Two dead friends, sure. But we're not crazy. Not Darry, not me, and definitely not Pony. He's the smart one, he's the one that got all the brains. It won't fail him.

"No," Dr. Wilkins agrees. "He's just a young boy who has gone through a lot the past year." He looks me straight in the eyes, and his gaze seems trustworthy.

"So what are you suggesting?" I ask, suddenly more relaxed, aware that Darry already had spoken to him. The three options.

"We have a ward on the hospital for children with mental... issues. He can get help there if you-"

"No hospital!" I interrupt, eyeing Darry, and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I've already said 'no' to that," he says, turning to Dr. Wilkins. "The second option, too. Medicine. I don't want my brother to take any pills. He's only fourteen."

"Understandable," Dr. Wilkins smiles, and I suddenly think he seems to be a really good doctor. "The third option is continue what you're doing. Support him, talk to him, be there for him. Let him go to school, do the normal things he used to do. When he's ready, he will remember everything, mourn, and be able to move on."

I light my last cigarette, not because I want it, I don't, it's gonna make me puke, but I need to do something with my hands.

"That'll help?" I ask. "I mean, it's been more than three weeks. Almost a month."

"I'm sure it will," Dr. Wilkins assures. "But if not, or he feels worse, call me."

Darry shakes his hand. "We will. Thanks, Doctor."

"Thanks," I echoe.


	7. The word on the outside

**A Place Deep Within**

**Seventh Chapter - The word on the outside**

_October 19 - evening_

Steve throws glances at Pony, and I'm sure Two-Bit told him what happened yesterday. He doesn't ask me about it though, and I'm thankful for that. I don't think I can talk about it. We sit in the living room, the gang. But Dally doesn't stand leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, scowling while listening to Two-Bit's rambles, Johnny isn't out on the porch with my brother, looking at the stars. Like they should be. We're just the leftovers, but the missing ones still take up space. The emptiness they've left behind is bigger than the room. I don't think we'll ever get used to this. To be five, not seven.

Pony sits on the floor, leaning against the couch, with an unreadable face. Since Dr. Wilkins left, he's been hiding in our room, but after dinner, Darry somehow convinced him to stay with us. I can tell he's not happy about it, but at least he's here.

Steve deals cards to a game none of us want to play. I pick up mine anyway, sort them, manage to throw away the low ones. I had just let him down about going to a drag race, or a party, or just do something outside the house. I can't leave Pony. I know it bugs Steve, after all, it's friday night, but he knows me too well to say anything. He's a good friend. Sometimes he lets his mouth go, but he knows when it's really needed to keep shut.

So Steve stays, but what's even stranger, Two-Bit stays too. He cracks a beer, telling us about a happening from school, his eyes sometimes fall on Ponyboy. My brother doesn't react until he mentions some Soc's name. Then Pony wrinkles his nose.

"He's stupid," he says. "I don't know why he's in my english class. Not to mention math."

"He asked about you," Two-Bit replies, and I frown. I'm glad Two-Bit can reach my brother, but it's not good that a Soc asked about him.

"Yeah?" Pony says. "Why?"

"Somethin' about an assignment?"

"Oh," Pony remembers, turning to Darry, accusing him. "I told you I should have gone to school today."

Darry looks a bit worried. "I'll call your principal on Monday and explain."

"That won't help," Pony scowls. "I''ll fail the assignment anyway."

"You don't do school work with a Soc, do you?" Steve growls, and Pony turns his head.

"Like I choose it," he snaps. "It ain't my fault my teacher stuck us together." He gets up and disappears outside. A moment later, I throw my cards down, to Steve's protest, and follow him.

It's raining, but we stand under the roof of the porch, both of us without jackets. It's cold, and Pony's mad.

"Pony," I say, trying to get to him, but he turns his back to me. "Pony, listen!" I grab his arm, force him to eye me.

"Lay off, Soda," he says, jerking out of my grip.

"Is it about the doctor?" I ask him, and he looks over the railing, staring at the pouring water.

"That too," he says, and I realize he still thinks we're lying to him. "What's so bad, Soda? What did they do?" he asks me in an accusing tone.

I'm confused.

"Johnny and Dally," he explains impatiently.

What did they do? They _died_.

"It ain't their fault I ran away," he snaps at me.

"I know." I don't know what else to say.

"Then don't act that way!" He pushes me aside and walks in again. I stand stunned, thinking that everything about Pony only seems to get worse.

XXX

_October 20 - midday_

Darry picked up an extra shift, but I have the day off. Our house is small and we share a bedroom, but Pony manages to avoid me somehow. Sometimes I think I hear him talking, or even laughing, in the kitchen when I'm in the living room, or in the living room when I'm out on the porch, but when we occasionly meet in the same place, he keeps his mouth shut and glares. Maybe it's just wishes. I miss my brother, even if he's here. Sometimes I think this is worse than Windrixville.

The sun's warm today and Pony changes into his track shoes.

"Where you goin'?" I ask, looking up from Steve's forgotten car magazine I found on the coffee table.

"Just... out."

"Ya sure you should go alone?" I ask, thinking about Socs and jumpings. The rumble should have put an end to all that, but I don't trust them. I don't think any of us do. Socs are not famous for playing by the rules. When I think about it, greasers aren't either.

"Yeah," he says after a moment of silence, and I frown. He's lying to me, I know it. I don't know what he's up to, but I can't tie him up in our bedroom and knock some sense into him, so I just nod. Let him do his normal stuff. Make him better, like he said. The doctor.

"Be back in an hour."

"Maybe two," he says and is gone before I can reply.

I flip through the magazine, not concentrating on the words or the pictures at all. The house is quiet. The clock on the wall ticks. I can't stand it, the silence, so I throw away the magazine, grabbing the phone on the table. Steve's at work so I can't call him over, instead I dial the number to Two-Bit's house. His sister picks up, telling me her brother is out somewhere.

_Mine too_, I think when I put down the receiver. I doubt they are at the same place, even if that would made me calmer.

XXX

_Five years earlier - autumn_

_Socs. The rich kids. We let off of them in school since all the kids in our Junior High lives on the East side, and the Socs don't. But some of the older ones usually drive their cars on our streets, looking for some greaser to jump, always four or five against one. I know a lot of people who has been on the other side of their fists. Tim Shepard. Two-Bit. My brother Darry. He didn't get hurt so much, but he's big. He can fight back. _

_Me and Steve are longing for the day we can fight too. Until now, it has only been small battles, mostly just for fun. Never with a Soc. But after it happened to Darry, he told me to never walk our streets alone, and I still do my best to follow that advice. The thought of being jumped by several older boys isn't exactly what I want. But still, the thought of fights appeal me. I'm tired of just being in the audience. A kid. I'm twelve now, old enough to be in it, not stand outside._

_So the bruise on my cheek and my split lip isn't a coincidence. Steve holds his hand under his nose, catching the red drops before they fall to the floor, and Pony's staring at us. _

_"What happened?" he asks, but I ignore it._

_"Mom home?"_

_"No."_

_I relax. I really want to clean myself up before her worried hands fly all over me. I drag Steve to the bathroom, tailed by Pony._

_"What happened?" he asks again, hugging his book. His eyes are huge._

_"We jumped a Soc," Steve says proudly._

_"Really?" I can see a little insecure smile on Pony's lips. He's afraid of the Socs, even if he never would admit it, especially not in front of Steve. But I guess at least half of the stories that had been told to him ain't really true. And I bet it's Two-Bit and Dally who has told him most of the tales about the big, scary Socs. Maybe I'm somewhat guilty, too._

_Steve seems to enjoy the audience, cause he turns to Pony, and this time his hand's replaced by a tissue._

_"Yup. He was walkin' all lonesome, and when he spotted us he screamed 'greasers', and I don't think he actully thought we would jump him, but we did. Got'em real good, too," he says nasally._

_Pony thinks."So what happened to you, then?" he asks after a while, making Steve scowl._

_"He had a brother," I say, chuckling. "Couldn't have known he would show up to save the day." Pony looks a bit shocked that I'm laughing, he can't see the humor in it, but I can't help but feel good. The adrenaline I got from the fight makes me feel like I'm flying. I remember everything. I suck it in like well-needed air. Now I have a story too. A true one._

_A door opens down the hallway, and suddenly Darry shows up behind Pony. He gently pushes our youngest brother aside, taking his place in the doorway._

_"Soda!" he says. "Who was it?"_

_"I don't know his name," I say. "But I guess he goes to your school."_

_"Point him out and I'll get him," Darry promises, and I roll my eyes._

_"Darry, don't be so protective, I can fight myself."_

_"Soda and Steve started it," Pony pipes up, and my fifteen year old brother starts his lecture about Socs and fights and self defense. I don't really listen, and I don't think Steve does either. We still live in the memory, not regretting a thing. Darry is still talking when he gets an ice-pack from the freezer for my cheek, making me sit down on the couch, but all I can think is that I don't need this, I can take care of myself, I can handle the Socs, when my eyes fall on Ponyboy. He remains in the background, listening to Darry with wide eyes, and suddenly I realize it could be him in the future. Him walking in with a bruised cheek, a split lip, a bleeding nose. I understand why Darry seems so upset, cause when I think of Pony on the other side of a Socs fist, I can feel the rage inside. If I can help it, no Soc will ever touch my brother. If they do, I'll make sure they regret it. Just like Darry does._

XXX

_October 22 - lunch time_

I stand lazily leaning forward against the counter, wishing the clock went faster so I could go home, when the door opens up. The little bell above it makes its jingle, and I straighten up to meet the customer.

"Kid, wait up!" someone shouts, and I recognize the voice as Two-Bit's. I only know one person that he calls 'kid', and sure enough, my brother suddenly stands in front of me.

"Tell him to knock it off," Pony says angrily and points. Two-Bit folds his arms.

"No way, kiddo!"

I spot Steve outside the window and look at the clock. It's lunch time in school.

"Knock off what?" I ask, watching Two-Bit. He looks stern.

"He's following me around like I'm a baby," Pony complains. "I don't need a sitter, not at home, not in school!" he hisses turning to Two-Bit.

"Tell that to the Socs," Two-Bit mutters, letting his watch for my brother down now that I'm nearby. He takes a bag of chips from a shelf and opens it.

"Hey, you have to pay for that," I say before his words catch up to me. I frown, suddenly cold. "What Socs? What did they do?"

"Show'em," Two-Bit nods at Pony, who shakes his head and stomps out the door before I have the time to react.

"They beat him?" I ask, wide-eyed, but my friend tells me no. "Then what?"

"His stomach."

I stare at him for a moment, before I leave my spot and rush after my brother. I tug at his jacket.

"Show me, Pone!" I can tell he doesn't want to, but after a while he gives in. He sighs and drags down the zipper. I lift his shirt, not knowing what to expect. I see big, black letters. Someone has written a word on my brother.

_Killer._

* * *

><p>Please review, criticism is welcome too. I really appreciate it!<p> 


	8. Not in blood

**A Place Deep Within**

**Eigth Chapter - Not in blood**

_October 22- evening_

He stands shirtless by the sink, a soap in his hand, but the letters won't come off. His stomach's red because of his efforts, his eyes a bit dull.

"Did they hurt you?" I ask, even if I know they didn't, and he shakes his head no. They didn't, at least not physically. Two-Bit told me that there were four of them, not known as Socs that fights a lot, but apparently, they do other stuff. Two of them held his arms, one lifted his shirt, the fourth wrote. Two-Bit came too late to stop them, but in time to give one of them a black eye, another a nose bleed. The others were too quick on their feet and disappeared. My brother had stared after them, tugged down his shirt and pretend nothing had happened when Two-Bit tried to talk. So because it was lunch-time, our friend grabbed him and Steve along and went to me.

"What about the other two?" I asked them when I had sent Pony inside the shop to grab a pepsi.

"I'll take them tomorrow," Two-Bit assured me. Before they went into Two-Bit's car again to go back to school, I grabbed Steve's arm. He saw my question.

"Don't worry, Soda," he said. "I'll help him with those bastards."

Don't worry. Was there a time when I didn't worry? I can't remember.

"_Damn it_," I whisper, spit, to no one. We have had enough. We don't need this. Pony especially.

He turns off the faucet. The letters more gray than black now, he gives up his tries and takes the towel to dry himself. He stares at his stomach for a while.

"Everybody knows," he says a bit dazed, and I frown.

"Knows what, Pone?"

He sighs and drops the towel, picking up his shirt instead.

"The truth." He's leaning against the sink, his hip against the once white porcelain, watching my reaction. "About Bob. What I did. They're right." He gesture with his hand over the word.

He hasn't killed anyone. Johnny did. I open my mouth to tell him, but discover I can't. I'm afraid to push him farther away, he's already so deep down in his imagination. I'm afraid to make his denial worse. Pony drags his shirt over his head.

"Don't tell Darry," he says. "He'll just go nuts." His green eyes meets mine brown. Somewhere in them I can see _him_. "Please, Soda."

_I'm goin' nuts_, I want to say, but I don't. I hope I won't regret it, but I need him to trust me. I need to be the brother I used to be. So I nod, cursing myself for doing it.

"Okay."

He passes me out from the bathroom to the living room, and I hear the sound from the TV. I take his place on the bathroom floor and undress. I need to be alone for a while. The shower's hot, just like I want it, and I wash off my work, the smell of gasoline, and wish I could wash away my worry as well. When I turn off the water I hear Pony talk and laugh, and I stand still, listening with my eyes shut. Maybe Darry's right. Time and normal routines, that's what Pony needs. That will bring him back.

I put on my jeans and drapes the towel around my hair, walking to join my brother and Two-Bit but suddenly, I stop. My brother's alone in the couch.

"Pone?" I say, unsure. He snaps his mouth shut and looks at me. He pales some.

"Yeah?"

"Who are you talkin' to? Where's Two-Bit?"

He looks guilty.

"No one. He ain't here."

I can see that.

"I heard you, Pone. Did he just left?" I glance at the door, hoping he'll say yes.

He's watching me. I can tell he's debating with himself. What to say.

"No, he ain't here," he finally repeats. "I was just..." He trails off, but doesn't continue. I sit down next to him, takes off the towel from my still wet hair.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" I say, somewhere hoping he won't explain this. I'm sure he'll say something I don't want to hear. Pony gives me a funny look.

"Yeah. I know."

And then we sit quiet.

XXX

_October 23 - evening_

Darry talks to Pony in our room. I try to eavesdrop, but they're loud enough, I don't need to put an effort in it. Darry's mad that Pony didn't told him, Pony says it's no big deal. Darry disagrees, of course.

I stare at Steve, who shifts in his seat, but his eyes don't flicker away.

"You told Darry," I say to him. "Pony'll think it was me."

"Why didn't you?" he blurts fast, looking a bit annoyed. "He's your brother," he adds, defending himself.

"That's why."

Steve raises his eyebrows, shakes his head almost unnoticed. "Sometimes I don't understand you, Soda," he tells me while leaning back in the couch.

"You don't have a kid brother," I answer, and he makes a short laugh. It's bitter.

"I don't have any brother, you mean." He folds his arms.

"Not in blood, maybe."

First, he doesn't move. Then he gives me a small nod, a small smile. He knows what I mean. We're brothers, the gang. Even if not in blood, still brothers. We're family.

"Well, if it's that way, then technically Pony's my kid brother, too," he finally says with a smirk. "And I say that little brat needs a-"

"Stop it, Steve," I warn. "It's not me you don't understand," I continue. "It's Pony."

He takes his pack from the coffee table, puts a stick between his lips and lights it with a match. "Yeah," he says after taking a drag. "Ain't that true."

Something else is true. I don't understand Pony either. Not anymore.

XXX

_October 23 - night_

I don't know if he's mad or just tired, but my brother crawls to bed without a word. He turns restless, puffs on his pillow before he slips out an annoyed sigh and sinks back to it. His face's turned away from me. I slung my arm over him, like I always do, and he stiffens for a second. That hurt. But I let my arm be, and so does he.

"You're mad." It's not a question.

If he pretends to be sleeping, both him and I knows he doesn't trick me.

"I'm not," he lies, the voice muffled into his pillow. He sniffs. It takes some minutes before I understand.

"Pone, are you cryin'?" I put my hand on his shoulder and gently turn him towards me. The room is too dark, but with my fingers I can feel the wet on his cheeks. "What's the matter, honey?" I hope he's crying over our friends.

I hear him breathe, hear him trying to hide the sobs. Swallow them down. "I'm scared, Soda," he finally whispers, giving me an answer.

"Don't be," I pleads. "I'm here, Pone. You know that."

"You can't be here all the time."

His words feels like a knife. They're true.

"I'll try. Darry too. And Two-Bit took care of the Socs-"

He snorts. "I don't _care_ about the Socs."

I brush away his hair from his forhead. "Then why are you scared, Pony?"

He's quiet, for a long time. His breaths gets slower, and maybe he's asleep. But then he whispers again.

"I think it's the dark."

XXX

_Nine years earlier - summer  
><em>

_It's Keith's idea, but of course, Steve and I are both on it before he's even done with the talking. Darry who sits at the table eating a sandwich, sighs at us, but Pony tugs at my sleeve._

_"Can I come too, Soda? Please!"_

_I can't say no to him. His cast went off yesterday, and he has some problem standing on his leg, the small scar on his ankle still there, pale red. It's the end of the summer, and I know he has been suffering cause of the heat and everything he couldn't do, like bathe and run and play wildly. Like a kid his age should do._

_"Of course, Pony."  
><em>

_"Where? Mom answers when I ask her for permission._

_"Maybe at the lake?" I try. She blinks and I sigh._

_"Whattabout the park?"_

_"The back yard's a nice place," she says amused, and then it's decided. Keith complains but he can't do nothing about it. But I don't think his mom would allow him to camp anywhere outside our yard or his either.  
><em>

_Dad brings our tent out from the garage, it's only for four people but even if Johnny comes too, we're small enough to fit. Dad has to shout at us while putting it up, all of us too excited to really give him a help. When it's finally done, he picks up Pony and holds him up-side-down while me and Steve's wrestling.  
><em>

_"Pony and Johnny is so tiny they're like one," Keith says and throws in his sleeping bag. Johnny stands beside him, hugging Darry's, and Keith takes it from him, and it disappears into the tent. _

_"I'm not tiny," Pony says, and Dad puts him down with a smile. The grass is green and the sky's still blue, it's hours to sunset, but this is an adventure. None of us wants to go inside the house again. Not even to eat. So Mom comes out with a basket of sandwiches._

_"Keep your socks on tonight," she advices before she gives us kisses on our cheeks. "Good night, boys. The back door is unlocked, just in case." She looks at Pony when she says the last._

_"I'm not afraid, " he tells her, and I know it's true. But when it's dark outside, Keith puts the flashlight right under his chin, making his face ghost-like._

_"Boo!" he says to Johnny, who squeezes his eyes and shudders back._

_"Tell us a ghost story!" I bounce on my sleeping bag, pushing at Steve. He push me back with a growl, and I bump into Keith who drops the flashlight._

_"Hey," he protests, picking it up again. "I know a story!"_

_He tells us about an abandoned house, a scary dad and frightened kids, steps on an attic and a hanged man in the basement, making everything up while he speaks. Now and then we all shouts out an idea, and Keith picks it up and involves it._

_"It must be blood on the floor," Steve says. "It's always blood in a good story."  
><em>

_"Tell us about a mummy," I put in, shudder some at the thought of a man dressed in bandages, waking up to haunt us.  
><em>

_"Tell us about a kitten."_

_"Pony!" we protests. _

_"There's nothin' scary about a kitten," I add, and he looks disappointed._

_"But I like kittens."_

_"Have you heard the story 'bout the big, red murder-kitten with razor claws?" Keith whispers scary-like._

_It's way past midnight when we finally gets quiet. There are strange noises outside, and Johnny's eyes are huge. But my brother crawls to a ball next to me, his thumb sticks into his mouth, and he's the first one to calmly fall asleep. _

XXX

_October 23 - night_

I reach out and flick on the lamp on the nightstand, Pony blinks when the light irritates his eyes.

"Turn it off," he moans. "I was asleep."

"No, you wasn't." I sit up. "What do you mean, the dark?"

He stops blinking and lies still. His hands picks with the cover, his gaze avoiding mine. "I don't know."

"You have never been scared of the dark, Pone," I say to him, and he turns his head away.

"Can we please sleep now?" is all he's saying, and I sigh.

"Why don't you talk to me?"

"I do."

"No you don't. Not like you used to do."

He shrugs. "I don't know what you want me to say."

Me neither.

I close my eyes and lies down. When I speak again, it's in an almost inaudible voice. "What are you scared of, Pone?"

This time he turns to me, snuggle beside me. He's warm. But he doesn't talk.

* * *

><p>Beta-readed by <strong>bookwormgrl101<strong>.

Thank you so much for reviews!

I call Two-Bit Keith in the flashback on purpose. I don't know what you think, but I'm thinking that Two-Bit it's not a nickname a kid would give their friend. In my opinion it would be realistic he got it in his early teens. In the flashback he's only 9 years old and therefore I call him Keith.


	9. Need to breathe

**A Place Deep Within**

**Ninth chapter - Need to breathe**

_October 24 - evening_

Darry literally kicks me out of the house. He's tired of my expression.

"Ever since Pone..." He hesitates, not sure what words to use, then quickly decides for two, "... _ran away_, all you've done is work or sit home and worry. Go out and have some fun."

_Like you have done different,_ I think while Steve takes the opportunity to grab my shoulder and force me through the front door to his car on the curb.

"Get in," he commands, and I surrender, open up the passanger door and throw myself down on the worn seat. I'm exhausted, and I realize I need time to breathe. To be me. Hopefully, I can catch up within myself this Wednesday night at the drive in. Steve hear his name, his head snaps up. Darry stands on the porch.

"Don't bring him back until midnight!" he shouts, and Steve saluts him.

"Sure, boss!" I wonder when they made this up. It feels like they have gone behind my back, and I don't know if I should be angry, or thankful. Right now I'm both.

Steve's quiet while driving, eventually parks beside a familiar jalopy at the Dingo, and I open my window to lean out to knock on the opposit one.

"Two-Bit!"

He sits in the backseat, his arm thrown over some blonde's shoulders, his lips all over her. When he hear me, he turn his head and grins.

"Well, look at that! Finally out of the house, Soda?" He's drunk, his girl giggles.

"I told ya," Steve says to me and takes his keys. "Come on."

We leave the car and the air is dark. Chill. Clear. I feel free and guilty. Something's wrong with my brother, and I'm here, trying to enjoy myself. What kind of brother does that? My whole body, soul, screams at me to move, to _don't_ _care_, and I shake my head, trying to get rid of the thought that this is okay. But Steve sees more than I thought he would.

"Don't," he sputters. "You can think about him all day tomorrow if you'd like, but not tonight." His grip on my arm is firm, and I don't protest when he drags me between cars and crowds. I recognize faces, and sometime during the evening I start to talk and laugh and everything feels so _normal_, so fine, and I think that when I gets home, I must thank Darry for this. Steve eyes me now and then, and everytime he sees more and more relieved. I guess their plan worked. I'm out, I'm here, I'm the usual Sodapop.

Suddenly Evie is here too, she waves at me and puts her arm around Steve's waist. I leave them alone for a moment, drinking my Coke on the hood of a car, decline a smoke and take deep drags of life instead. Sometimes life is beautiful.

Until someone taps my arm.

"Soda? Sodapop?"

I recognize her, but first I can't place her. She looks different. When I knew her, she had dark hair, now its bleached and longer. Her lips are red, curled around a cigarette, and I know she didn't smoked then. But it was a long time ago, she's the girl before the girl before Sandy. We were never that serious, but I should remember her name. And then it comes.

"Darlene?"

She smiles. "That's me. How you been, Sodapop?" She leans her head, blinking with blue eyes.

"I'm fine," I tell her, and realize its true. For the night I am. I discover I lean forward while we talk, my mouth close to her ear, and she giggles at the right spots. The painful pit in my heart that belongs to Sandy feels smaller, not that I'm in love with this girl, I could never love her, but it feels good to at least feel something different than neglected and hurt. Maybe I can forget Sandy, some day.

"So," she says after a time that feels like half an hour, like this was what she has been waiting for to speak up. "Whats the thing with your brother?" She takes up her cigarette pack, offers me one that I shake my head no to.

"Which one?" I straighten up a bit, not sure where this will go.

"The little one." She waves with her lighter, gesture an inch below her own height.

"Ponyboy? What about him?"

I don't want to talk about Pony. Not tonight, not with her. Her expression has changed, she looks thrilled, and it hits me, she's not flirty, she digs for gossip. That was the reason we never came to a point were we did more than kiss that while ago. How could I forget?

"He's a bit strange, ain't he? Since he killed that Soc-"

"He didn't killed anyone," I snap, and she seems to catch herself.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean that. But you have to admit he's weird Soda. I know he's your kid brother and all, can't you tell me what's wrong with him?"

"Nothin's wrong," I say irritated, jump down from the car to walk away from her, but she takes my hand.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she tells me. "But everyone knows its something. People talks, Soda."

"Then they should shut up," I say. "You don't even know him."

"I'm goin' in the same school as he," she informs me. "I know he's only been back like a week, but-"

"There's no buts. Pony's fine." And what can she know? She's two years older than my brother, I doubt they have classes together. I snatch my hand back from her grip.

"All right," she says, but I can hear she doesn't believe me. I take a few steps, she doesn't follow. And I hate myself for it, but I turn around, anxious to know. I have to know.

"Talks how? What'd they say?"

She has pity in her eyes now, and I wonder what I ever saw in her back then, why I held her hand and kissed her behind the school building. She's definately not Sandy. Her eyes moves away from me, her cheeks a bit red. Apparently I didn't react like she thought I would.

"You know what, I don't think they say anything," she avoids me. "Um, I have to go." She turns around, stumbling on high heels between an arguing couple, looking back at me before she disappears. And I suddenly know Steve's been hiding things from me.

He and Two-Bit drinks beers, their girls hovers nearby, talking to each other in low voices. Evie smiles, the blonde girl throws glances at Two-Bit, bows her head to Evie and whispers something. Evie laughs out loud, making Steve look at her, and he discovers me.

"Soda?"

"What the hell, Steve!" I say, snatching his beer from him. He misunderstand.

"I thought you can drive home, you never drink anyway," he mutters.

"What?" I shake my head. "No, I was..." I look around, realizing I don't want this talk in public. "I just wanna talk to ya," I say, and he cocks an eyebrow in Two-Bitstyle.

"What happened to Darlene?"

I don't answer, instead I stick my hand in his jack pocket, fishing up the keys and walks away, sure he'll follow, and he does. We close the doors after us, and I stare out through the wind screen.

"What does people say about Pony in school?"

Steve sighs and leans his head backwards, his hands limp in his knee. "Damn, Soda."

"Skip the bullshit and just tell me," I snap. "I'm not in the mood tonight, Steve."

His jaw is clenched, and I know it's not a good sign. "Steve..."

"It's just rumors, Soda. Gossip. Someone says somethin' and people are stupid enough to believe it."

"I told ya to skip the-"

"The bull, I know." He lift his hands and place them on the steering wheel. "All right. _Someone_ heard him talk to Johnny and now everyone seems to take it for true."

I don't get it, or maybe I just don't want to.

"So? He was his best friend for christ sake. Of course he talks about him."

Steve looks at me, his face solemn.

"Not _about_, Soda. To."

That almost makes me laugh. Not in a funny way.

"He can't talk to him, he's dead."

I land hard. Oh crap.

_I saw him, Soda, he was there!_

_Who are you talkin to?_

_No one._

_He's not crazy._

_He's just a young boy who has gone through a lot the past year._

"Damn it," I moan.

XXX

_October 25 - midday_

This place isn't mine. It smells weird, old paper, dust and detergent in an odd mix, and it's too quiet to fit me. People doesn't walk here, they _sneak_ behind shelves, no one talks. I go to the front desk, clear my throat and makes the lady behind it look up from the pen and paper she holds in her hands. She looks at me, up and down, frowning a bit.

"I'm lookin' for a book, " I tell her, and she raises her eyebrows behind her big glasses. I shift uneasy, feeling stupid. How do people do this? "A... a book about sick people."

"Sick people?" Her voice reveals her thoughts. I'm a greaser.

"Well... like, in their... heads."

"Fiction or fact?"

"What?"

"Do you want a book which's made up, or a reference book about illnesses?"

I pick what sounds right. "I guess a... reference book."

She leaves her spot and walks me inside the labyrinth of bookcases to the far corner. She gestures at the section, and all I can see is thick books lined up beside each other, shelf after shelf.

"Some special illness?" she asks me, and I feel the sweat in my palms when I clutch my hands to fists.

"Um... if someone doesn't exist but a person... talks to him and sees him... um..."

"Hallucinations?"

Is that the word for it? I try to nod, and apparently, she notice. She starts to search, read the titles, now and then drags out a book and lays it in my outstretched arms.

"Well, I'm not a doctor so I really don't... " she mumbles to herself, then a bit louder, "...but here's one about schizophrenia... here, another one... psychoses..."

The books burns and I feel bile up my throat.

"Actually, I don't want a book." I throw them back to her, force them into her fathom, her face taken aback when she drops one while I turn around and run out from the library, her words cutting into my head, makes it ache. She's _wrong_. Of course she is. She said it herself, she's no doctor. She doesn't know a thing. And I remember, I don't like books. I never have.

XXX

_Ten years earlier - autumn_

_"Did'ya know there's a place with a lots a lots a lots of books you can borrow for free?" Pony breathes out beside me. I look up from my homework, glad to be distracted from it. "It's called librany."_

_"Library," Mom corrects him while finishing the dishes._

_"Library. And Mom's gonna take me there. You'll come too, Soda?"_

_I drop my pen and close my school book with a thud. "No. I don't like books."_

_Pony pouts."I love them."_

_"You can't even read," I tease him.  
><em>

_"Can too!" He puts up the picture book he got for his birthday some months ago on the table beside me and opens it. His small finger follows the short line. "One... day... when... Baby... Bear... woke... up..."_

_"Very good, Ponyboy," Mom smiles at him. "Are you ready so we can go? How about you Sodapop?"_

_"No," I mutters. "I hate books." I glare at the one in front of me, and Mom puts a hand on my shoulder._

_"Take a break, Soda. I'll help you with your homework when we gets home again."_

_Pony snuggles up beside me. "Me too!" Then his eyes pleads. "Please Soda, come!"_

_"No." I hesitate. "Not today."_

_"Some other day?"_

_"Maybe."_

_But only if I really, really have to._

XXX

_October 25 - midday  
><em>

I bump into someone standing on the pavement, and when I look up, I see the black eye and the madras shirt. He doesn't know me, but I know him. Maybe he's not the right person, but really, I don't care. He stands for all the trouble, for all my fears, and I hate to feel so vulnerable. I can't stand it. His mouth forms around a word I don't even hear.

Just punch, hit, kick. Someone always has to pay, and now it's him.

At least it's not Pony this time.

* * *

><p>Beta-readed by <strong>bookwormgrl101<strong>, thank you so much for your help!

And thanks to all who reads and reviews. Please review, I really appreciate every word from you!


	10. Everyone lies

**A Place Deep Within**

**Tenth Chapter - Everyone lies**

_October 25 - early evening_

I stumble through the front door, Darry flies up.

"Soda!"

"Stop it, damn it," I mutter, push him aside and make my way to the kitchen. The water I gulp down is cold and taste like iron. Or maybe it's the blood, I can't tell. Like it matters. The urge to throw the glass at the wall, make it split in million pieces, must have shown somehow, cause Darry grabs my wrist and takes it from me.

"Soda!" he repeats. "Look at me!"

I do.

He sighs, and sounds so tired that I feel lousy. We have enough with Pony, he shouldn't be worried about me too. But I had to do this, he must understand. And I'm sure, he would've done the same. I'm trying to get free from his grip, but he push me down in a chair and sits down next to me. Then he takes my chin in his hand, inspecting the damage. It's not bad, but he's a big brother.

"Tell me," he urges.

I make it short. "Fight."

He rolls his eyes. "I can see that. With who?"

"With that damn Soc," I answer. Darry let go of me.

"Why, Soda," he says solemn. "Two-Bit already got them. It doesn't help Pony that you come home with blood all over your face."

But what will help him? I wish he could tell me, and then I would do it. Cause so far, nothing has. And I'm sick of it. But I have to agree with him, at least with the Pony-part.

"No," I mutter, "but it sure helped me." I look at my sore knuckles. It did. Gosh, it felt so good to punch him down.

"What Soc?" Pony suddenly stands in the doorway. It's weird. For some reason, I didn't expect to see him. It's too early for him to be in bed, so I don't know why. Maybe I just had hoped not to, at least until I've sorted things out. I know I wont tell any of my brothers about me going to the library, the books. But why should I? They have nothing to do with us.

"One of the fuckin' writers," I spit, answering Pony's question, and I hope it's true. My only evidence was the black eye, that's not something that would work in court.

"Oh." Pony lowers his eyes to his t-shirt covered stomach. The black cotton fabric hides it, I don't know if the word's completely off by now. He doesn't talk about it. Darry gets up and disappears for a moment, and when he's back, he put our first-aid-kit on the table. He clean my split lip, wipes away the nose bleed. When he works with my face we're all silent, only my 'ouch' can be heard now and then when the stuff he uses stings.

He's finished. Pony's gone now, where I can't tell, and Darry looks at me.

"So, who won?" he asks casually while packing away the kit.

"I did."

He grins at that, gives me a gentle push on my shoulder. "Good."

XXX

_October 26 - morning_

A paper lands on the counter, my eyes follow the hand who holds it, up along the arm to meet the face. He's glaring.

"I've cut your hours," he says sternly.

"What?"

"Just sign, please. You're not working full time anymore." The other hand holds a pen. I refuse to take it.

"You can't do this." I shake my head in disbelief.

"I can and I do. You have skipped too many days, Sodapop. I know Lucas wants more hours," he threatens.

Of course he does. He's been after my job since his first day. I don't like the kid, but luckily, he's only here a few hours a week.

"I need full time. I need the money," I say, annoyed. That's no secret.

"And I need a worker I can trust comes to work while scheduled."

I grit my teeth. "My brother was _sick_. You know that."

Still am, but that he doesn't need to know. Like he would care anyway. He's in his mid forties, still single, no relatives. This gas station is his baby, he's not a people person. But I can crawl for him. Kiss his fucking toes. I know if I plead enough, he'll rip the paper. He's not stupid. But I'm not either, and hell if I would do something like that.

"All right." I take the pen. "Then I'll quit, I can't do part time. By the way, I think Steve wants to look around for somethin' else too," I lie. My gaze pierce his, his grey eyes narrows. We both know Steve and I are the reason this DX goes so well. Customers and cars are what we do best, he can't afford to lose us both. He stands still for several minutes before he snorts and takes the paper.

"Just never fuck up again," he throws at me. "Then you're out."

I glare as he leaves. This adds to the things I won't tell Darry.

The door open up again, Mr. Henderson sticks in his head, not satisfied with my victory.

"Overtime duty today."

I groan.

XXX

_October 26 - evening_

I'm tired. Twelve hours at work is too much, with no long breaks as a punishment. I can't push my boss too far, so I had to deal with it. My feet aches as I kick off my shoes, then throw myself down next to Pony, who looks up from his homework.

"On a friday?" I ask, raising my eyebrows, and he shruggs.

"I need to catch up." He scowls while trying to figure out his math. I stare at his book pile on the coffee table, remembering Darlene and yesterday at the library. I observe him, thinking about the _words_, how untrue they are. It's stupid of me to still think of them.

He notice me. "What is it?"

I shake my head. "Nothin'."

He looks at me for a short moment more, then returns to his work, numbers and X and Y's. But it's not nothing with Pony. I don't know what it is, but it sure ain't schizophrenia or some psychose. He can't be this _normal_ if it was. Besides, his doctor told us different. And it's just gossip. He never talked _to_ Johnny. Everyone's wrong. Everyone lies.

I have to believe that. And I will talk to him. When I know what words to use.

XXX

_October 26 - night_

I sit straight up to a sound I haven't heard since before the day in court. He's screaming, tossing around, the cover's on the floor, and I put my hand on his shoulder to shake him.

"Pone, wake up!"

His eyelids flies up, his breaths are ragged and short. He swallows, tries to calm down.

"Soda?"

"I'm here," I try to comfort him, and he rolls around to his stomach. Our door opens up, light from the hallway leaks in, and Darry steps over the treshold.

"Nightmare?"

Pony turns his face out from the pillow.

"Yeah. I'm fine." The answer comes automatically. He doesn't sound like it, but we know not to push it.

"Go to bed," I suggest to Darry, one hand on Pony's back. He knows I can handle this, so he just pats Pony on the shoulder before he leaves.

"Wanna talk about it?" I ask, waiting for the usual answer, _I don't remember_, and I get it while he rolls away from my hand, out from the bed and stands up.

"I need a smoke." He grabs his jeans on the floor, searching the pockets. Then he sits down on the bedside, inhales the nicotine with shaky breaths. This isn't what he normally does after a nightmare, and I realize something.

"It wasn't one of those you used to have," I say. "What was it about?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he says, revealing that he _do_ remember this time. "It was just stupid." I'm just about to reply when his head snaps around. "Stop _naggin', _Soda!"

"Sorry," I mumble.

XXX

_Seven months ago - early spring_

_He's tired. His face's pale, the dark circles under his eyes won't go away. _

_"I don't remember, I told you," he says to Darry._

_"It's almost seven days in a row, Ponyboy," Darry says tiredly. "You need to sleep. Me and Soda needs to-"_

_"Well, I'm sorry," Pony interrupts sarcastically. "I'm not doin' it on purpose."_

_"I know that Pony, and I wasn't accusing you. But you... Pone, stay here! Ponyboy!"_

_Pony glares at me in the hallway when he leaves the living room, and Darry sighs. His face reminds me of Pony's, white and exhausted, and I guess the sleeplessness shows in mine too. I sit down in the couch next to him._

_"I wish Mom was here," Darry says, and it's the first time since the funeral he mention her. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My brother hides his face in his palms._

_"I don't know if I can do this, Soda."_

_But he must, I can't even think of the alternative. The room suddenly feels cold.  
><em>

_"Darry..."_

_He looks up at me, force himself to smile. "Don't worry," he says. "Of course I won't give up on you. I would never do that."_

_"I know." And I do. I believe him. But he's only nineteen, we can't forget that. The responsibility is heavy, sometimes too much.  
><em>

_He leans back. "If he only tell me what he dream about I could help him," he says like he believe in it. Maybe he do._

_"He doesn't remember," I tell him. "He's not lying about it."_

_Darry gives me a look, but I know I'm right and he's wrong._

_I grab the pillow Steve forgot on the couch when he left this morning. I know he was here tonight, but he must have gone early, probably disturbed by Pony. My kid brother almost managed the whole night this time, it wasn't until 5 am we heard the screams from his room.I put the pillow under my head and crawl myself to a ball, trying to steal some sleep before I need to go to work._

XXX

_October 27 - midday_

"He said that?" Steve shakes his head. "Fuckin' asshole."

I take a sip from my Coke. "Yeah."

Steve shakes his head again, and I'm glad he doesn't say _I told you so_. I'm afraid that would make me snap at him, he doesn't deserve that. He just tried to warn me. I watch as my friend change a part in the engine of a blue Plymouth, with one eye on the door to the shop - my break is over since five minutes. But since I didn't get one yesterday, my conscience is clean. But the thought of losing this job make me cold, so I throw the empty bottle in the trashcan to take my spot behind the counter again.

"You're Two-Bit's friend." The blonde from the Dingo stands in front of me, paying her full tank. "Sodapop, right?"

I smile at her. She's good looking. "At your service."

Long red fingernails tap the desk between us. She pouts.

"He never called me," she complains while I take her money. "He said he would."

"Sorry 'bout that," I say. "It's just Two-Bit." I won't make up excuses for him. But she doesn't look that sad.

"It's not your fault." She eyes me. "Tell him _hi_ from me." She waves as she leaves. I guess it's his lucky day when my friend shows up just half an hour later, tailed by Ponyboy.

"What time you and Steve gets off?" he asks me, eating a chocolate bar, leaning forward with his elbows at the counter. "I've heard about a party tonight." His eyes turns to Pony. "Not for kids." Pony just rolls his eyes.

"You'll take blondie there?" I reply, telling him about the visit.

"Nah, she's nice and all, but I suspect her to be a false blonde." He makes a face. "So, what do ya say?"

I shake my head. "Not tonight, Two-Bit. Ask Steve." I look at Pony. "See you at home tonight, all right?"

He looks just as uncertain as I feel. "Sure."


	11. Because of the snow

**A Place Deep Within**

**Eleventh Chapter - Because of the snow**

_October 27 - evening_

He's in our room when I finally get home from work. I drop down on the bed, and he turns around in the chair. He knows I want to talk, cause he sighs, then rise to sit down beside me. He takes his pillow and puts it in his lap. Darry's cooking dinner, but I hope we'll have time before he call us. And I hope this will come out right. I've thought about this all day, making customers annoyed at me, Steve even more. But not until something hit me, something I almost had forgot, I knew what to say. I hope it's the solution.

"So... everything's okay?" I ask him, and he nods.

"Yeah, it's fine." He scratch his nose. "I went out runnin' but it's almost too cold now. And I don't have the shape I used to have."

"You're smokin' too much," I say when he digs up his pack. He gives me a quick glance.

"I know." But he lights a stick anyway. I take one too, not caring if it makes him understand. He already know, I can tell from his looks. He's pale, too skinny, too avoiding. Soon it'll be two weeks since I first discovered something's wrong, the first thing he said, and that's what I will hit down to.

"Remember first day in school? After... your concussion?" I know I have to pick my words. I won't mention Dally, or worse, Johnny. I won't make him tell me they're still alive, cause I don't want to hear it again. I don't want him to say he talked to Johnny in school, cause I know he didn't, and if he thinks he did, I would be devastated. I can still pretend I don't believe it. But if he says it to me, then I'll know. And I don't want to know. I just want him better.

His first confusion was about our parents. And he snapped out from that so quickly, and I still don't know why. I can't even believe I let that go. This about Johnny seems to go on forever, but our parents took just as long time as to smoke a cigarette to get to him.

"What about it?" he asks, the ember in the end of the cigarette glowing as he takes a drag. I let out my smoke, picking at a hole in my jeans.

"Remember what you said?"

"Um, no. It was like... two weeks ago." He sounds amused, but I know he's not.

"About Mom and Dad. You asked for them," I remind him, and the way he blushes, I know he remember.

"Oh," he says quiet. "That."

"So why-" I start, but he interrupts.

"Soda, I told you I was just confused. I mean, I never _thought_ they-"

"Pone!" It's my turn to take over, pretending not to hear his lie. "It's not what I want to talk about, okay? I was just wonderin'... you went out onto the porch, and when you came back in, you already knew. I mean, I never said anythin'. You just... changed. How come?"

His cheeks are still a bit red, and he leans forward to ash his smoke in the tray on the nightstand. I wait. I think it takes more than a minute before he replies, and then it come so quietly I almost can't hear.

"It was the snow."

"What snow?"

This time he looks at me, not avoiding my gaze. I'm amazed how green his eyes are. He always tells about the grey in them, but I can't see it.

"That's the thing," he says. "When I went out smokin'. There was no snow. And when I stood there, and saw all the colors in the trees... then I remembered. When... when Mom and Dad went out, it was snowing?" I hear the question, like he's still confused.

"It was," I confirm.

"It was," he repeats. "But that day... before school, I mean, it was no snow. And it couldn't disappear that quickly. It just couldn't. And..." He swallows, near his tears. "And then I just remembered the accident. That they... you know."

_Never came back._

I don't ask how he could forget in the first place, and Darry chose that moment to shout at us to come to the table. Pony jumps, then wipes his eyes, and we throw our cigarette butts away.

"Come on," I tell him, "before Darry starts to think we're not hungry and eat it all by himself."

XXX

_Thirteen years earlier - winter_

_My kid brother's just a baby, soon __one and a half years old, and I show him his first snow. Actually, Mom says it's his second winter, but I can't remember him playing in the cold white, so I tell her that._

_"Oh, he didn't," she laughs. "He was really little then."_

_"How little? Like this?" I hold up my snowball, not completely round, but it's the best I've ever done. I will keep it forever.  
><em>

_"A bit bigger," Mom says. "No, don't eat the snow, Pony!" She leans down, wipes my brother in his face with her hand. He makes a grimace, trying to turn his head away, but Mom wins of course. Moms always do.  
><em>

_"Snow tastes good," I say. "It tastes like ice cream. Or candy. Right, Pony?"_

_My brother scoops up more snow in his small red woolen mitten clad hands, puts it in his mouth and smiles. _

_"It can be dirty," Mom explains. "You shouldn't eat it."  
><em>

_"I love snow," I tell Mom. "It can never be bad."_

_"Never?" she asks. _

_"Never ever!" _

_She laughs again and picks up Pony, who protests wildly. "Come on, boys. Let's get Darry and Dad and build a snowman."_

_"A big one!" I agree. Pony screams, bend his body down to the snow, and Mom sighs and put him down again.  
><em>

_"All right, Ponyboy," she says. "You really like the snow, don't you?"  
><em>

XXX_  
><em>

_October 27 - night_

I can't stop thinking about the snow. We had a snow ball war that day, all seven of us. Even Dally laughed some, but I think he would deny it if we had told him afterwards. He likes his reputation. _Liked_. God, it still hurts that they're gone.

I don't think any of us actually won the game, but when the evening came, we were all losers. We lost them to the snow, our parents. The police told us about the slippery way, the crash against a tree, the fact that they had no chance at all. _No one could've survived that. I'm sorry, boys._ Words colder than the air outside. I still remember his eyes, locked at Darry's, avoiding mine and Pony's, trying to comfort us with the sentence but failed. He knew he failed. Of course he knew. _I'm sorry_ couldn't bring them back. And I felt bad for him, for having to bring the bad news. It was a strange evening. Unreal.

They died because of the snow, and I should hate it. But the snow made Pony come back, at least some. I don't know what it means. If we're supposed to show him something to make him come back completely. Like their graves. Johnny's and Dally's. He missed their funerals, he hasn't been at the cemetery yet.

I lean on my elbow, looking down at my sleeping brother and know I can't do that to him. I don't even know what he thinks anymore. I try to remember when he last said something to me about Johnny. It was days ago. Maybe he's already snapped out of it, without me knowing. He's so quiet these days. I hope he's sad. That he recalls the rumble, Johnny pale in the hospital bed, Dally crumpled under the dim street lamp. I don't wish him these memories, but he must have them. He lived them.

He was_ there_.

XXX

_October 28 - morning_

When I wake up, he's gone. It's Sunday, a chance for me to sleep in since I don't have to work today, but the empty space beside me is cold. He didn't went up recently. I yawn and swing my feet down to the floor, goes to the living room to look for my brother. It takes just a few glances around our small house to realize he's not at home. And it's so early Darry's still asleep.

I try to ignore my worried feeling when I push up our front door. It's freezing, and I blink. The ground has a layer of white, footprints shows Pony's way over the lawn. I turn around and walk back to our bedroom, find my jeans and a clean shirt, and fortunately my shoes. When I rummage through the hallway closet to find my jacket, Darry shows up.

"Why are you up?" He check the watch. "It's only six am," he says, confused.

"Pony's gone," I say and regret it at once. He's not _gone_ gone, he's just out. "I mean out," I add quickly, but Darry already scowls.

"Now? This early? Why didn't you stop him?"

"I was asleep, that's why!" I snap. "Where the hell's my jacket?" I close the door with a loud bang.

Without a word Darry goes to the couch, picking my coat up from the floor beside it.

"Thanks," I mutter while dragging it on. "I'll be back soon."

He doesn't ask where I'm going, he already know. Instead he plops down on the couch, turning on the TV to watch the morning news. But his shoulders are stiff.

It's still snowing when I get out, but I'm not afraid Pony's trail will get lost. This early his prints are the only ones, and they ends up at the lot. My heart nearly stops when I see the body lying outstretched in the middle of the white, but then I see his breath in the cold air.

"What are you doin'?" I puff at him with my shoe. His eyes are closed, and he doesn't look up.

"I had another nightmare," he says.

I sit down next to him, the snow soak my jeans. Pony must be cold, he's only wearing his thin autumn jacket. _Never uses his head._

"I didn't notice."

"I know."_  
><em>

"Tell me about it."

He open his eyelids. "No."

"Why not?" I try to smile. "It's me, Pony. You used to tell me everything."

"Not everything," he blushes. "I can't tell you this."

"Please."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because..."

"Because what?"

"Soda," he says. "Shut up. I ain't gonna tell."

I sigh. He lies completely still, staring up at the sky. Now and then he blinks, his only movement except from his chest's rise and fall.

"Come on, Pone. Let's go home. It's fuckin' cold, and Darry'll be worried."

"You can go."

"Not without you," I reply. "Come on." I tug at his arm. He let me drag him up on his feet. I discover he shivers, and put my arms around his shoulders, trying to warm him up, but he jerks away. I'm just about to suggest us to exchange jackets when he turns around to look at the oak tree. The knot in my stomach is back, I remember the last time we was here. When he said he saw him.

"I don't want him to go away." It's a whisper.

"What?"

"I don't want him to go away," he repeats, louder this time but still quiet, still refusing to look at me.

"Who?"

He buries his face in his palms. "Johnny. Oh god, Soda. He's so mad at me!"

I don't know what to do, so I just fling my arms around him when he cries.

XXX

_October 28 - morning_

I take him home and he goes straight to bed. I put the cover on him, and he's asleep before I have the chance to leave the room. In the hallway I meet Darry.

"What happened?"

I go back again, but Darry follows.

"I need a cigarette." Mine's out, and when I find Pony's pack it's empty too. "Damn it."

Darry takes my arm and drags me out of the room. "What happened?" he urges.

"I don't know," I tell him honestly. "Things are really fucked up, Darry."

"Soda!"

"Hell, Darry!" I shout. "I. Don't. Fuckin'. Know!" I take a step backwards, we stare at each other in silence. For a long moment none of us moves, but then I sigh and shake my head.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I'm sorry. I must... get out. I'm goin' to Steve, all right?"

He looks so tired.

"Sure. Okay."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," I say. "Promise."

* * *

><p>Reviews? Criticism? Thoughts?<p> 


	12. The lost ones

**A Place Deep Within**

**Twelvth Chapter -The lost ones  
><strong>

_October 28 - morning_

I don't end up at Steve's. I have known where he lives since forever, yet his house is strange unfamiliar. There's a reason for it, Mr. Randle doesn't like visitors. So I avoid the front door and walks around the house to knock on Steve's bedroom window. When I don't get his attention, I remember the party. I guess he's asleep, or not home at all.

In a corner shop I buy new cigarettes for Pony and a sandwich for breakfast, before I take a long walk around the East area of Tulsa. Everything's still quiet, the only sound comes from the chrunching snow under my shoes and a few cars driving by. I walk for an hour, the snow keeps falling, hiding my footprints. Then I stop. To my left is Johnny's house. Like Steve's, I've only been inside those walls once or twice. I stare at it, the flaked off paint, a broken window, the junk in the front yard. I wonder if they're sad. His parents. Probably not. They never loved him. Not the way they should.

I suddenly feel guilty, have we grieved enough? It all happened at once, Johnny, Dally, Pony falling down in one night. It all has been about Pony since. Their funerals passed when Pony laid unconscious, we all focused on the breathing boy, neglected those who didn't. And then there was Sandy too. Her step out of my life when I needed her the most. But she's nothing against our friends. I miss them, now more than ever. And I wonder when life will get back to normal, but I know the answer. Never. Cause no one will come back again.

I feel empty. I don't want to go home. I don't want to deal with this anymore. I don't want to be an adult seventeen year old who has lost his parents, two friends, a girl, a brother, in mere a year. I want to be happy-go-lucky-Soda. Not feel like a middle aged man.

But I haven't lost Pony, have I?

He's still here. At home. In bed. Sleeping. I can go home, look at him, hug him, talk to him. I can do that. I can be his big brother. If only my feet wants to move. Suddenly I find myself sitting on the curb, still staring at the former home of our friend, and I wish I could turn back the time.

_He's so mad at me._

Pony talked about Johnny. But Johnny was never mad at anyone.

XXX

_One year ago - summer_

_Dally walks back and forth, makes a path in the long grass at the vacant lot, the green straws has no chance but bend under his shoes. In one hand he holds a nearly empty whiskey bottle, in the other a cigarette, and he waves the latter at Johnny's direction._

_"You can't tell me you're not angry," he shouts. "Damn, Johnny."_

_Johnny looks down._

_"I'm sorry," he says quietly. I can tell he hates when Dally shouts at him. But I can see Dally thinks so too, cause he calms down, sits himself down next to us under the oak._

_"You should be mad," Dally says, oddly gentle. "They deserve it."_

_Johnny just shruggs and Dally swears. "Johnny..."_

_"They're my parents," Johnny says. "I know they ain't perfect, but..."_

_Dally snorts. "Perfect?"_

_Johnny swallows. "... but I'm not either. Guess it was my fault..." His hand touches the blue spot on his cheek. We've already helped him wipe off the blood. The sound of splitting glass echoes, Dally's last whiskey soaks the ground beneath the rock a few meters away._

_"Shut up and stop talk like that, Johnny!" His eyes are strange. His fists knots. And suddenly, he gets up and leaves. Johnny looks at me._

_"Dally's right," I say after a silent minute. "It ain't your fault. You should be angry at him." I mean his dad. It was his fist that marked Johnny this morning. But I know my friend's just sad. And that's heartbreaking._

_Johnny sighs. "I'm not like Dally," he says, but I know he wish he was.  
><em>

XXX

_October 28 - morning_

It's ten o'clock when I throw myself down in a kitchen chair. Pony's up, eating cereals in front of me. He gives me a weak smile when I give him his pack of cigarettes, mouths a 'thank you'.

"Why is he mad?" I blurt out, and it sounds wrong. _I_ know he's dead. I shouldn't say _is_. I should say was. But he wasn't mad, he isn't mad, I don't get it. "Why _was_ he mad?" I try. Thinking maybe something happened between them in Windrixville. Or at the hospital. Only three people knows what happened there after the rumble, two of them are dead. Maybe he _was_ mad.

Pony has stopped eating. He drops the spoon, staring at me, pale, uncomfortable.

"Who?" he says. "What do you mean?" he asks, even if he knows.

"Just answer the fuckin' question," I swear, regret it at once when Pony flinch. He stares down at his bowl.

"Sorry," I say as Darry walks into the kitchen. Luckily, he didn't heard me snap.

"Soda, eat," he tells me gentle.

"I ate."

"When?"

I look at him. "I bought a sandwich when I was out." He keeps his eyes on me for a moment, then seems satisfied with my answer, cause now he turns to Pony.

"Finish that, Pone," pointing at the milk drenched cereals. Pony picks up the spoon again.

"Why do you care so much about us eating?" he mutters, but I know why. Darry just wants to keep us alive, in the ways he can. Pony refuses to look at me. I stare at him, and he notices, but instead, he glances at our older brother. Darry pours himself a cup of coffee, then exit the kitchen. The tense between us comes back with his absence.

"Pony?" I say, and he drops the spoon again, milk splatters on the table. "Why was Johnny mad at you?"

He swallows, looks down. "He wasn't."

"But you said-"

"No," he interrupts. "I didn't." He can't be paler than this. "I didn't say that." He push the bowl away, standing up. I fly up to my feet too.

"Don't walk away from this," I urge. "Why was he mad?"

I don't know why this seems important. But I know it is. Something in the sentence _means _something, but I can't get what. I need to get it. I miss something, I can't let it slip from my hands. Not now.

Pony shakes his head, I can tell he wants to leave, to keep quiet, but I push him.

"Why, Pone?"

He clench his fists, closes his eyes.

"Pony," I plead. "Please."

And miraculously, he gives in, almost shouting, looking shocked that he actually talks.

"He's mad cause he's dead and I'm not!"

And then the time stands still. The only thing that flies through my head this moment is _He knows!_, and all I can do is stare at him, in front of me, on the other side of the table. He stares back, looking terrified, then I blink once and he's gone.

XXX

_October 28- midday_

"He knows!"

Darry stops putting clothes in the laudry machine. "What?"

"Pony knows Johnny's dead."

"He... how d'you know?"

"He told me." I feel strange. Nervous and happy. Pony's fine again. But Darry looks suspicious.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Darry starts picking with the clothes again, throws in a pair of jeans and washing powder, deep lines crosses his forehead. He's not convinced.

"Darry, everything's gonna be fine," I tell him, ignoring the thoughts that gnaws in my head. This was what I wanted. Everything else fades away, is gone, has never happened. What Pony said before, what Steve said, what the gossip said, what the librarian said, doesn't matter anymore.

"What did he say?" Darry push the button and I put a hand to my mouth. That I can't tell him. That will take us to a place where Pony's _not_ fine, but confused. He knows the dead part, but a dead buddy can't be mad. I know this. I hate it. I deny it.

"He just said it," I avoids. "That's what we wanted, right?"

Darry doesn't say anything. He scratch his neck, sighing.

"I'll talk to him." When he walks past me, I grab his arm.

"He's not at home. Two-Bit took him to the movies." That's why I hasn't mention this to Darry until now. "Darry," I say. "Don't worry."

He gives a short laugh.

"How, Soda?" He looks defeated.

I know what he mean. I bite my lip, chewing on it. Damn it.

XXX

_October 29 - late afternoon_

Pony should be home from school by now, but he's not. I have checked all our rooms, the clock, the front door more times that I can count. Where is he?

I burn the chicken in the oven, trying to hide it with spices, and am out in the living room in no time when the door slams. But it's not Pony.

"Smells... different." Two-Bit sniffs in the air. "One of your specials?"

"It's called black chicken," I say, returning to the kitchen. Two-Bit follows.

"Black? Why black? That's not the color you normally use," he points. I open the cabin, lifting down plates and glasses to set the table. When I turn around, Two-Bit's poking on the bird with a fork. "Oh," he says. "Now I get it."

"Get what?"

"Why it's black." He folds his arms, looking sternly. "Did you _destroy_ the chicken, Soda?"

"You don't have to eat it," I reply, but he shakes his head, sadly.

"Unfortunately, I do. I'm hungry."

I lean against the fridge. "Where's Pone?"

"Right!" Two-Bit exclaims, sticking his index finger in the air. "I should tell you he's gonna be late."

"Why?"

"That, I can't remember. Maybe he should go to the movies? Or the track field? No, definitely the library." He shuffles food on a plate, eyeing me. "He'll come home soon," he assures me.

I sit down in front of him, trying to eat. It tastes awful. I stand up and throw it away in the trash, but to my surprise, Two-Bit eats his plate empty. When finished, Pony's still not home, and we sit down in the couch, staring at a cartoon on TV. My friend seems dragged in it, but I'm lost in my thought about my brother.

"Actually," Two-Bit suddenly speaks up, making me jump. "I'm a bit worried 'bout the kid."

I try not to inhale hard. My friend has a serious look in his face. I want to ask why, but I don't need to. I already know.

"Yeah," I say. "But he knows now. I mean, he used to deny it, but yesterday he said Johnny's dead."

"He did?" Two-Bit looks taken aback. "Cause I could've swear that I..." he suddenly silence, staring at the TV.

"What?"

"Steve told me 'bout the talkin' you and he had at the Dingo last Wednesday." He turns around in the couch, facing me. When he finally speaks, it's solemn. "All right, it ain't no easy way to say this. I _happened_ to walk in the hallway where his locker are, ya know, just to check on him, I do that now and then since the Soc's did that stuff on him. And I heard him... talkin'."

"So it was you, then?" I think of the rumors running in the school.

He looks disappointed. "No way, Soda. Ya know me, I talk a lot and sure, maybe I spread a few words 'bout people's doin's sometimes, but I would never do that to Ponyboy."

I feel lousy. I know he wouldn't, but he smiles before I have time to apologize.

"It's all right," he continues, but the smile disappeares at once."Besides, it was today. And he was like... arguing. To... him."

Him. Johnny.

"Damn, nothin's never easy anymore." Two-Bit leans back, drags a hand over his face. "It's not like he's a... a ghost or somethin', right?" The last part comes out uncertain. If I hadn't known him, I would've thought he's scared.

"No," I say, forcing the words out. "He's just in Pony's head." Right then the front door opens, and Pony sneaks in. He drops his backpack and jacket on the floor, then walks to us and plops down in the recliner.

"Were where you?" I ask, trying not to sound worried.

"Library. I told Two-Bit to tell you." He turns to him. "You forgot?"

Two-Bit offers a sheepish smile, a grin that is him. "Nah, I told 'em. Sorta."

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading. Please review :)<p> 


	13. Stay with me

**A Place Deep Within**

**Thirteenth Chapter - Stay with me**

_October 30- midday_

It's past lunch-time when Steve and Two-Bit shows up at my work. I can see them from the window, worried faces that makes me leave my spot and meet them outside next to Steve's car before they have a chance to reach the door.

"What's the matter?"

Pony's not with them, and I don't know if that's a good sign or not. Probably not, even if that had meant he had ditched school if he was.

"It's Pony," Steve says, and I suddenly feel dizzy at his words. My friend catch my arm.

"No, Soda. It has nothin' to do with the kid gettin' hurt or somethin'."

"But-"

"All we know are that Darry showed up at school to take 'em home," Two-Bit fills in. "Um, from the councelor's office." I don't miss the glances the two of them exchanges.

"Darry wants you to get home," Steve says, looking around for Mr. Henderson's car. It's not here.

"Gimme your keys," I hurry. Steve doesn't hesitate. If Darry wants me to leave my job, it must be important. But before my friend let go of me, he force me to look at him.

"I'll take your shift, okay?"

I nod, but really don't give a shit if this will give me trouble later. Two-Bit's already in the passenger seat when I take my place behind the steering wheel.

"I know you don't tell me everything," I say sternly when I reverse out onto the street, nearly taking down our OPEN-sign on the pavement, and Two-Bit puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Slow down. A speed ticket won't do any good," he says dryly and I snort.

"You've never cared 'bout speed or tickets before." But I release the gas pedal, slowing down some even if not fully to the limit. "Just tell me, Two-Bit."

"It' ain't nothin' new," he says. "The usual stuff."

"You mean about Johnny." It's not a question, and he sighs.

"Yeah. I guess some teacher found out."

I have to stop at a red light, my fingers drum impatiently while I wait for it to turn to green.

"It's okay," I try to convince myself. It's not like it's the first grown-ups that knows. His doctor do too. Wilkins. And he's _fine_ with it. The school won't make this worse than it is. They can't.

I hope.

XXX_  
><em>

_October 30 - midday_

"You knew and you didn't tell me?" Darry tries his best not to shout at me, but I can tell he has to fight for it. I feel ashamed. Had it been otherwise, Darry hiding things about Pony from me, I would have been furious. Not that I can admit it, not now.

"I just found out myself." I defend myself with the lie, but he doesn't fall for it. "Darry, come on, you knew too." _Some of it._

He sits down at his bed. We have closed the door to his bedroom, but I'm sure Pony can hear us from his spot on the couch. We're not as quiet as I want us to be. I just hope Two-Bit's able to distract him from our words when we argue about him.

"I knew he said he thought he saw him _once_, Soda. I knew that he didn't really think that he's dead. But you never told me that he... _talks_ to him."

I lean against the wall, my head hangs low. "I'm sorry." And I am. But Darry doesn't calms down.

"How long, Soda?"

"I..."

"Soda!"

"Two-Bit told me he heard him yesterday," I avoids. Then I sigh. I have to be honest. "And Steve told me 'bout the rumors last Wednesday."

"So you have known for almost a week?" Darry looks angry, but he holds his voice low and steady. That's worse than when he yells.

"It's not like I _knew_, " I say to him. "How could I know if it was true? I mean... damn it, Darry. I was scared," I admit, not looking at him. I don't mention the time before that when I heard Pony talk to nobody when I took a shower. That memory still haunts me. I think I knew even then. I just denied it. I wish I still could.

Darry put his hands on his knees. "Well, obviously we can't handle this ourselves. I'm takin' him to the hospital tomorrow."

I feel myself go pale.

"No! No, Darry-", but he rise, grabs my shoulders.

"Soda, we don't have a choice! And it's not just because of Pony."

I shake my head, trying to get his words, and he continues. "The school threatens to contact the Social Services. The councelor told me, Soda. If we don't do anythin' to help him, they'll take actions. You understand that?"

I manage to nod. I do. "But he know he's dead." I know I sound whiny. Somehow I thought that statement from him would stop all this. Darry let me go and turns around, plops down on the bed again. And when he speaks next, it's so defeated.

"Yeah, but that makes it even worse, doesn't it?"

XXX

_Eight months ago- winter_

_Mrs. Keene smiles sadly at us, and I hate that we're here. I don't trust her, even if she looks nice. I can tell Ponyboy doesn't either, cause he keeps chewing at his finger nails while Darry speaks._

_"Are you sure, Mr. Curtis?" Mrs. Keene says when he's done talking, and we all flinch at the name. Mr. Curtis is _dad_, not Darry. _

_"Yes." Darry doesn't hesitate, and I grip Pony's hand, forcing it down from his mouth while holding my breath. Our future lies in her hands, and I wonder how she feels about the power she possess. Does she know how much she affect us? I guess she does, it shows in her eyes when she turns her gaze away from Darry and looks at Pony. He shifts uneasy under her stare.  
><em>

_"Ponyboy," she says. "Do you want to live with your brother?" She sounds like she expects a 'No'.  
><em>

_Pony nods frantically. "Yeah." I push at his leg and he swallows and tries again. "Yes ma'am. I really do." Her smile disappears, she looks disappointed.  
><em>

_"Me too," I say before she has the time to say anything. The sound she makes through her nose is not a good sign, and Pony gives me a quick glance. His eyes are still red after the crying before we left home this morning. But Darry sits straight in his chair, ready to fight for our family. What's left of it.  
><em>

_"Mrs. Keene," he says, and he has never sounded so mature before. "I know I can take good care of my brothers."_

_She snorts. Then she takes her pen an scribble something down on the paper in front of her. "All right," she says, sourly. When she points at the line Darry'll sign, she eyes him. "Don't let me regret this."_

_"I won't," Darry says. _

_All the way in the car back home, he gives us lectures of what we can't do. Don't drink, don't fight, don't get in trouble, don't even let the adults _notice_ us in any ways, good or bad, especially bad. I can tell he's afraid. Not for the responisbility he just got. He's afraid of losing it.  
><em>

XXX_  
><em>

_October 30 - night_

"You should come to bed," I suggest to my brother. "Come on," I urge. "It's late."

It's almost midnight, but I know why he doesn't want to sleep. It's not the nightmares, it's about tomorrow.

He sighs and close the book, throwing it down in his backpack on the floor beside his feet. He quickly changes into a tee and pyjamas pants before he lies down on his side of the bed. None of us moves to turn off the lamp, and all the unsaid things linger between us. Somehow I think Pony knows this, cause he turns to face me.

"Soda, do you think I'm crazy?" he says all suddenly. His voice is soft, but I hear the fear underneath. His question startles me.

"No," I say, and that's the truth. I don't. If I have, I don't anymore. Their deaths have start digging deep into my heart too, more than ever before. If I'm hurt, I know Pony's worse. It was his best friend, after all. He's not crazy. He just trying to comprehend, I'm sure of it.

"But..." Pony starts but hesitate, and then he tries again. "But I know you _know_, Soda."

"Yeah," I confirm. "I do."

He swallows, speaks in a small voice. "From Darry? He told ya today?"

"No... Two-Bit told me yesterday."

Pony takes a deep breath. Then he nods, looking so serious. He bites his lip for a moment before he continue, slowly. "Yeah. I thought so. I knew he would tell you about what he heard in the hallway," he says. "He can never keep quiet 'bout me since the rumble and when I got sick and everythin'." He turns to his back, staring at the ceiling. I copy him, watching the dirty white color above us.

"I already knew before, even, " I answer quietly to that, and when he gives me a glance, I continue. "Steve told me that night we were out. He... he heard the rumors."

"Oh." He seems embarassed. "Yeah. Everybody knows. The teachers and the principal... I've heard the students talk 'bout me in school. Sometimes they don't even whisper."

I hate them all. Pony looks so sad. "Don't listen to them," I say to him, but he shrugs.

"I try... but they're right, you know." He turns his gaze away again. "Cause... cause I think I am."

"Am what?"

"Crazy." He whispers that. First I'm speechless. I don't know what to say this time. But I repeat what I said before, the only thing I _can_ say.

"You're not crazy, Pone."

It's weird to hear him laugh. Giggle, almost, before he suddenly stops. I hope he will continue talking, and he does. "Then what am I? Because I see him. I talk to him. And he's dead." He refuse to look at me.

"It's just your hope, Pone," I say. "You just wish-"

"No!" He drags himself up to lean on an elbow, staring at me. His eyes are bewildered. "He's real! It's like... like it never _happened_. Like he never died. Just... just that I'm the only one who can..." He becomes silent, shakes his head. "First I really thought you were mad at him and Dally, ya know."

I remember the time on the porch, after Dr. Wilkins visit. "Why?"

"Because you refused to see him or talk to him or..." He gestures with his other hand. "You said he was dead," he accuses me. "You and Darry. I thought you thought it was their fault, everythin'."

I try to calm him down, my hand on his shoulder.

"Pone, you really thought we would say somethin' like that if it wasn't true? You really thought we would be mad at _Johnny_?" Dally maybe, but never Johnny. "So mad that we ignored them? _Pretended_ they were dead?"

He blushes. "No... not... not really." He puts a hand in front of his eyes."But... but he was _there_. And you... when you said those things..." He sighs and lies down again. "You just don't understand."

"I do." At least trying to. He glares at me.

"No, you don't. Cause you're not crazy," he says, sounding defeated. Then he reach out a hand and the room gets dark. I don't know how long we're just laying there, listening to each others breaths.

"I don't want to sleep," Pony suddenly whispers, and I take his hand.

"It's okay. I'm here."

"It ain't okay. I'll just dream again."

"The nightmare?"

I can feel that he nods, a small shift in his pillow next to mine.

"That's how I knew he's dead, ya know." I almost can't recogize Pony's voice. It's low. So scared. Uncertain. Like he doesn't want to talk, but have to. "He comes to me when I'm asleep. And he's mad. He's so angry at me, Soda. I shouldn't have run into that fire. It's my fault that he died. He keeps saying that. He says that I should've died and not him. I was the one who ran first. Soda, he's so nice when I talk to him during the days, but in the nights..."

"Pone..." I want him to stop talking. I want it so badly. I can't handle this, how he talks about Johnny, how he blames himself, but he ignores me, keeps rambling.

"In the nights, he's so mad. Then I just want him to go away, but in the days, I want him to stay. I want him to stay with me, Soda. Please don't take him away from me."

"Pony..."

"I talked to him yesterday. I told him to stop, ya know... stop being mad at me in the nights, cause if he doesn't I don't know what to do... "

"Pony! _Stop it!_ Just stop it, please! He's dead. _Dead!_ You can't talk to him, Pony, you can't..." I hold him by his shoulders, shaking him. Trying to make him understand this ain't real. It's worse to hear him saying this, than hear it from Steve or Two-Bit or Darry. I keep talking, asking him to stop. I know I'm crying. It feels like forever before Pony puts his hands against mine and pulls me off, but it could only be a minute. His eyes are stern now.

"But I want to, Soda. I want to talk to him. You can't make me stop if I want to!"

Then I give up. I can't do this anymore. I get up and leave our room, hoping the couch is free tonight. I don't even turn around to look at my brother when I close the door behind me.

XXX

_October 31 - morning_

I know we should keep our voices down, but I'm too mad. I crack an egg down into the pan, careless, and small pieces of the shell follows with it.

"I'm his brother too," I snarl when Darry takes the spatula from me.

"You're not holding together," Darry says. "That's why you can't come with us." He gives me a suspicious glance. "And why did you sleep on the couch this morning? What happened between you two?"

I ignore his questions. "Don't ya dare leave him there!" I fold my arms and take a step back, letting Darry take over the place in front of the stove. He sighs and tries to pick up the small, white pieces from the frying egg.

"Maybe I have to."

"No, you don't."

"Soda," Darry warns. I glare at him. Right then I don't even like him. "Go to work."

"I have a day off," I lie.

He doesn't say anything, and I leave the kitchen, furious. "Fine!" I snap when I walk past him. I go to my bedroom and accidently wake up Pony when I slam the door shut. He sits up without a word, looking at me while I dress.

"I have to go," I say, avoiding to mention our last conversation. "Steve'll be here at any minute."

"Okay."

I swallow. "I... I don't know if you'll be here when I get back." I glance at him. His bleached hair is a mess, his face expressionless. He shrugs.

"Okay."

"You do know about... the hospital?"

"Mhm."

I stare at him. He doesn't even seem to care. But before I go I have something to say.

"I love you, Pone."

He looks at me, this time smiling. "I love you too, Soda."

* * *

><p>Thank you so much for your reviews.<p>

And I'm sorry if I disappoint any of you, but no, Johnny is not a ghost in this story. He really is only in Pony's head.

Please review, it ony takes you a minute but I will be happy forever :)


	14. Counting seconds

**A Place Deep Within**

**Fourteenth Chapter - Counting seconds  
><strong>

_October 31 - evening_

Our house is quiet when I step inside our front door, Steve close behind me. Darry rises from the couch, and when I see his expression, I know. I stop, clenching my fists.

"Soda..." he says.

"Don't talk to me." I start walking again, slam the bathroom door shut and lock it. The soft mumble from the living room reach my ears when I lean my back against the door, trying to calm down. This is not Darry's fault.

I take a quick shower, and when I'm done, Two-Bit has showed up too. The three of them sits in the kitchen, looking at me when I turn up in the doorway. Darry push a plate towards me when I sit down in an empty chair. I stare at the food, but the lack of hunger makes me push it away again. I can't eat.

"They took him in," Darry sighs, scratching the back of his head.

"I figured," I snap.

"Maybe that ain't too bad." Two-Bit's eyes darts between me and my brother, and I glare at him.

"How d'you know?" I pick up my fork, not sure why, but Darry's strong hands takes it away from me. I don't know what he thought I would do with it. Maybe he just wants my attention.

"Soda, you have to listen. Pony's not well-"

"He's fine!"

"Right," Steve mutters, lightening a cigarette. "Don't deny it, Sodapop. He fuckin' talks to Johnny." He leans back in his chair, studying me from the corner of his eyes. Not even my best friend stands at my side in this. I know what they think about Ponyboy.

"You don't care about him," I say bitterly, even if I know that's not true. I can see in their eyes that they're hurt.

"Soda, please," Darry says, his voice reveals how hard this is for him. And I feel guilty. I can't keep doing this. It's not right against Darry. Against Pony. Against _myself_. I know he needs help. It's just killing me I'm not the one able to cure him. It should be me. Here, at home.

I lay my arms down on the table, hiding my face in them. "When can we see him?"

Nobody answer, and I look up. Darry's pale, avoiding my gaze.

"Darry?"

He picks with his napkin, staring out the window. "Next week."

I sit straight up. "_What?_"

"They... the doctor said it was for the best," Darry says. "No influences from the outside."

"He's fourteen, Darry. He's sick! You can't just leave him by himself at the fuckin' hospital for almost a week!"

"Sit down, Soda," he commands. I didn't even noticed when I got up. But I refuse to sit down again.

"You're his guardian, Darry. You gotta go and see him."

"I can't."

"That's bullshit," I spit. " Why?"

"I want him to be healthy, Soda. I want him to get better."

I smash my hands at the table. "And I don't?" I know I'm yelling, but I can't help it.

Darry rise his voice. "Then let him get this help, Sodapop. We've to trust them."

I don't know if he tries to convince me or himself, but I also know I can't win this battle. Darry's stubborn, afraid of the public authority. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but I can see it. He let them get away with this cause he's terrified they'll take Pony away if he doesn't. And maybe he's right. So instead of arguing, I leave the kitchen, close the door to my bedroom behind me and throw myself down on the bed. I miss him already. I try to comfort me that I at least know where he is, but that's not much help. I know I have let him down.

XXX

_Three years ago - summer_

_Ponyboy whines. __He just turned eleven, and I babysit him this evening. Darry's out with a friend, Mom and Dad are at a neighbour's place for dinner. I'm thirteen-going-on-fourteen, and I just discovered girls are kind of nice. Something happened this summer, both Steve and I agrees. Long hair and skirts are more interesting than football and cars, somehow. _

_Their names are Nancy and Janet, I think, or maybe it was __Jane, not that its matters now when Pony complains._ _Steve glares at him._

_"We'll only be gone for an hour or so," I try to convince my kid brother. "Come on, Pony."_

_"Mom said you should stay with me," Pony pouts. I feel bad, I know he looked forward to this evening with me, without our parents, and he doesn't like this turn. But we have dates now. We hadn't when I promised.  
><em>

_"Don't be such a baby!" Steve snaps, and Pony scowls at him. My friend has touched a sensitive spot.  
><em>

_"I'm not a baby!" Pony stomps to the TV and hits the button. "Fine! Go then." He plops down on the floor, eyes on the screen._

_"Pony..." I say, but he refuse to look at me. Steve tugs at my sleeve. _

_"Come on, Soda! What if they don't wait for us?"_

_I feel splittered in two, one part of me know that I need to stay in the house, but the other part really, really, _really_ wants to see Nancy. And it's just for an hour, I say to myself. So I go with Steve._

_Two and a half hours later, we run along the street. I shouldn't be this happy, but I can't help it. I kissed Nancy. I don't regret a thing until we reach the house and Pony's not there. We search for ten minutes, and then we have looked at every place he could be hiding at more than twice. He's still missing.  
><em>

_"Where is he?" I shout at Steve, and he bites his lip, looking more worried than I had thought he would do when it comes to my brother._

_"Maybe he went to a friend?" he suggest, looking in the hallway closet once more.  
><em>

_"Like who?" He could be with Johnny, but it's not that probable this time of night. I wonder what Mom and Dad will say, and right then the front door opens and my parents step inside. I take a deep breath, wondering how I'm supposed to tell them, when I see Pony behind them._

_"Ponyboy!" I yell, my worry suddenly changed to anger. "I told ya to stay here!"_

_Mom raise her eyebrows while putting her handbag down on the table. "Funny, Sodapop," she says. "I thought I said the same thing to you."_

_I blush. Pony glares at me and Steve._

_"You said one hour, Soda. I waited for you!"_

_"I'm sorry," I say, my gaze down at the floor. I feel awful. And I promise myself, even before Mom and Dad gives me a scolding, that I will never leave Pony by himself when he needs me again.  
><em>

XXX

_November 1 - day_

It's Thursday, and for some reason, everyone wants to fill their tanks or fix their cars today. I run back and forth between the counter, the gas pump, the garage, before I give up on handle this by myself and call in Lucas, only because Steve's still in school. He shows up after half an hour, a lower middle class kid trying to be a greaser. He likes Steve, he can't compete with his work since he knows nothing about cars, but me he glares at. I hope he doesn't know about my absence two days ago.

"You can go home," he says to me, not because he cares. He doesn't. "Take care of your brother, whats-his-name, _Ponyboy_, instead. I can work this out."

Everyone knows about Pony, but I hate the fact that this kid does too. That he even takes his name in his mouth.

"Screw you," I tell him when he smirks, making the customer in front of me look uncomfortable. I give her an apologizing smile, cursing myself for letting Lucas bring me down to this. For an answer, he flips me the bird and leaves the shop. If I could, I would start a fight with him, and even if he's bigger than me, I know I would win. He has a big mouth, but he's not tough enough with his fists.

In the end, it's a good day. The rush at work makes me think less of Pony.

XXX

_November 2 - evening_

"Darry?"

I catch my brother, standig still with his hands in the warm water, staring at nothing. He jerks.

"Wha-?"

I walk into the kitchen, and he looks embarassed, picking up a plate to clean it. I sit down at the table behind him, looking at my dirty nails. I've worked in the garage all day, and the grease are hard to get off completely.

"How's your day?" I ask him, only to have something to say.

"Cold."

"You should get a new jacket," I tell him. I know his old one is soon worned out, but he never thinks of himself. He has sacrificed so much for us, and I hate that I'm mad at him. I have to try not to be.

"Yeah," he agrees. "But with all the hospital bills-" he abruptly stops, and I can tell he regret bringing the topic up. But if he hadn't, I would anyway.

"About that," I say. "We should go-"

"_No_, Soda." My blood nearly boils at his stubborness.

I scowl at him, gritting my teeth. "Don't be such a jerk, Darry. He needs us." I jump down from the table.

"He needs professional help."

"We're his brothers Darry! I'm sure he's scared, or sad, or..." I shake my head, lost of words to express his feelings. Or maybe they're mine.

Darry slams with the dishes, something breaks. "Shit!" He takes the dish towel, wraps it around his bleeding finger. I step closer, take his hand to look at the wound. It's shallow.

"I'm sorry," Darry says, looking away. "You're right." He sighs. "But we're not allowed to visit until Monday."

"Says who?" Hope's in my voice. I need to see Pony. But Darry destroys it with his next words.

"Doesn't matter, Soda. We'll see him on Monday, and that's it."

"No," I say, sternly. "We're not _seeing_ him on Monday. We'll get him _home _on Monday."

Darry's smile are weak. "Sure, little buddy."

"Even if he ain't...well." _But he has to be._

Darry meets my gaze. "I don't know, Soda."

But I do. I will take him home.

XXX

_November 2- night_

It's hard to sleep. I always thought it was Pony needing me with him, but now I know it's the opposit too. I'm so used to have him beside me that the bed feels too cold, too big to be comfortable without him. I throw away my pillow and takes Pony's instead, wondering if my brother can sleep without nightmares when I'm not around. Actually, I know my presence don't keep them away, but at least I'm there when he wakes up, screaming and scared. And now I'm not. I twist around in the bed, give up my tries and walks to the living room. I spot a sleeping form at the couch. When I push it gentle, Steve says something inaudible, and I sit down in the recliner, leaning it backwards as long as it goes. I don't know when I fall asleep, or if I even do. The night's just a blur.

XXX

_November 3 - evening_

"Come on," Steve mutters, his foot push hard down on the gas pedal, but it's no use. His car are far behind the red plymouth, driven by one in Tim Shepard's gang. I think his name is James. When we reach the goal, we don't even bother to climb out of the car. Steve leans forward, groaning about the loss.

"Thought you fixed this," I say to him, and he looks at me, smirking.

"I did."

"So this was the best you could do?" I tease, and he gives me a light smack on my shoulder.

"Shut up, Soda. I ain't made of money, and I sure could use a new engine."

Someone taps at Steve's side window, and he rolls it down. "What?"

"Move," the kid says. "They're starting another race." He points down the road, and we both throws a glance backwards. Even if it's far away, we can see the headlights of two cars in the dark, ready to race.

"Let's go home," I suggest, and he makes a turn to drive back. When we pass James and his car, he waves at us, holding up a beer.

We leave the drag race, driving into town again, but when we're near our neighbourhood, Steve turns left instead of right. "Home, Steve!" I repeat, but he only takes a harder grip on the wheel.

"No."

"Steve," I warn him. "I'm tired."

"And I'm tired of you sittin' home, sulkin'," he answers. "Evie and some friend of hers are over at Dairy Queen tonight, I told her we might come."

"I ain't sulkin'." I fold my arms. "Damn it, Steve!"

"Yeah, I like you too, Soda," he tease. I surrender, closing my eyes as he drives, and don't open them again until he parks outside the diner. It's too much people here, and it feels like everyone is watching me.

Evie's friend is a cute brunette, but she talks to much. Maybe she tries to fill the silence when Steve and Evie make out, because I sit quiet, lost in my thoughts. Steve ordered me a Coke when we got here, but I don't even touch it. Her voice disappears in the background, hell, I don't even know what she's talking about, and I stand up, wanting to be anywhere else but here.

"I need to smoke," I mutter. I leave before she has the time to protest, or offer to follow me out. I head around the building and sit down leaning against the brick wall next to a dumpster. The snow that came some days ago has melt away, the ground is dry but cold. I flick with my lighter while draging on my cigarette, music and talks from inside reaches my ears, and I feel lonely. I hate this.

I'm on my third cigarette, I think, when Steve suddenly stands before me.

"Where the hell did you go?" he says, but he's not really angry.

"Out here," I say, even if it's obvious. "Are you gonna drive me home now or what?"

He seems to hesitate, but then he reach down and takes my arm to help me up. "Whatever. Come on."

XXX

_November 4 - day_

Tomorrow. I can't sit still, and Darry sighs when I'm bounching around in the room, not doing anything but stir.

"Take a draw with the vaccum cleaner," he suggest, and I stop.

"It's not dirty in here," I say, but that's a lie. The dust has collects in the corners, crumbles can be seen on the carpet beneath the coffe table.

"Just... clean up, Soda." He shakes his head and leaves me for the bathroom. I sigh, but do as he says, just to get the time to go. I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds until tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Ponyboy.

* * *

><p>Thank you for your nice words :) They are really, really appreciated!<p>

And I'm really trying to do this story as realistic as possible, but I honestly don't know so much about the care for mentally sick people in USA at the sixties... and research on the internet don't give me much or I'm just bad at google. I don't know if it's realistic to leave a 14-year old at a hospital and be adviced/not be allowed to visit for 4-5 days. But this had to be done because of my plans for this story, so I'm sorry if there are facts mistakes. Please overlook them and remember this is only fiction :) Thank you.

And of course, thanks to my beta-reader**Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose**.


	15. Behind the glass door

**A Place Deep Within**

**Fifteenth Chapter - Behind the glass door  
><strong>

_November 5 - morning_

The breakfast tastes nothing, but I force myself to eat, standing by the counter. I'm too restless to sit down. Darry slowly sips his coffee and I shot him an annoyed glare.

"Darry, come on," I say, swallowing my last bite.

"I haven't finished this yet," he says, eyeing me from above the cup. He looks like he haven't slept at all.

"I don't care." I grab the keys, jingling them in front of his face. "Let's go."

He looks at the clock, sighs and puts the coffee down. I know he needs the bitter drink to not be grumpy all morning, but I need Ponyboy. What's most important is easy to tell. So he follows me out, but when the front door slams behind us, he takes the keys from me.

"I'll drive."

I sit in the passenger seat, a cigarette clamped between my fingers, but I forget it until the ember burn me. I curse, throwing the butt out the window. I'm scared. I don't know what to expect, what kid brother we will bring home again. If he's fine, or the same, or worse. I glance at Darry. His stiff form, his clenched jaw line, tells me he feels the same. We have done what we had to do, what we could do, and now we're driving to the answer if it worked. Maybe we, Darry, did the wrong decision. I hope not. I can't imagine my feelings if something has happened to Pony because of this. I'm afraid of who I will blame, I don't want to destroy our family.

I want to be there but we reach the parking lot all too soon. I haven't sorted my thoughts yet when I stare at the large building through the windscreen. Darry pats my shoulder before he opens his door. We leave the car in silence, heading for the hospital. It's not the first time we walks through this entrance, but it's the first time we do it with hesitation.

XXX

_Fourteen years ago - summer_

_Dad is happy. My small legs try to catch up with his long legs, but that's impossible.  
><em>

_"Daaad!" I whine, and he turns around, picks me up._

_"Come on, Pepsi," he says. "Don't you wanna meet your new brother?"_

_I think for a while, then I nod, and a smile is spread in Dad's face. He takes Darry's hand with his free, and then we walks further in at the hospital. I wonder if Mom is sick. For me, only sick people lays in a hospital, but Dad tells me that she's not, she just needed the doctor's help to deliver the baby. I wonder how the baby will come out from Mom's belly._

_"Well," Dad says. "I tell ya when you gets older."_

_"I wanna know too," Darry says, and Dad seems relieved when we reach a pair of doors._

_"Here it is," he says and before I know it, we are in Mom's room. She holds a bundle in her arms, and I know my life will never be the same again. Dad drops me down, and I rush._

_"Can I see him?" Both Darry and I crawls up in the bed. I wrinkle my nose when I see the small, red, face._

_"He looks funny" I say. "Why is he ugly?" The words earns me a smack from Darry, but Mom only laughs._

_"He's a newborn, Soda. Most newborns are a bit red and wrinkled. He'll change." Then she yawns, and Darry pats her._

_"You can sleep, Mom. Me and Soda will take care of the baby."_

_"Yeah," I breathe, feeling big. "Always, Mom!" _

XXX

_November 5 - morning_

I stare at the map on the wall, trying to figure out which ward Pony belongs to, when Darry puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me against the elevators. He push one of the buttons inside, and I lean against the mirror, staring as the numbers counts up. We step out at the fifth floor, and I turn to Darry, feeling betrayed.

"You never said-"

"Soda," Darry interrupts. "It ain't a fever he got. What did you expect?"

I stop in my steps. I don't know. I honestly never thought about it. I guess I expected the same place as last time, when we brought him here after his collapse. Not this. Darry opens the door and disappears into the waiting room, while the sign on the wall still catch my eyes, still mocking me. Telling me my brother is crazy. Otherwise, he hadn't been here. Not in this ward. The glass door closes in front of me, and I wake up at the sound. I force myself to start walking again, to push at the door to follow my brother. He stands in front of a reception, talking to a nurse, at least, I think she is. But she wears regular clothes. When I approach I hear her tell Darry to sit down and wait, she'll call the doctor, and we do. The chairs are uncomfortable, but the room is cozy somehow. It doesn't look like it belongs to a hospital. The walls has a light green color, and plastic potted plants stands everywhere. The paintings on the walls is obviously made by children and young teenagers, and it hit me that they must be the patients here. Pony loves to paint, but I can't see his name on any of them. A shelf holds a lot of bright colorful toys and picture books. It's kind of depressing. Kids shouldn't be mentally ill.

I hear someone unlock the door next to the reception, and it swing open. A man dressed in jeans and a white coat steps in, eyeing Darry, and he rise. I follow him.

"Mr. Curtis," the man says and they shake hands, then looks at me.

"This is my other brother, Sodapop," Darry says. "Soda, this is Dr. Nelson."

"Hi," I mumble, takes his hand in mine for a short moment, wondering where Dr. Wilkins is. I don't know why, but I don't trust this man. No one says anything more, instead we walk through the door and along a corridor with more than a dozen doors. I look at them while we pass them, wondering if Pony is behind one of them. If Darry hadn't held me under my arm, I'm sure I had rushed ahead, opened them up one by one to find him, and I bet Darry knows this. His grip tightens around my arm.

The office is sterile. White floor, white walls, white ceiling, dark brown furnitures. Impersonal. I can't see any pictures, or photos. Dr. Nelson gestures at a chair in front of his desk and Darry sits down. I find another one by the wall and drags it beside Darry's, and when I sit down, the doctor leans back in his own chair at the other side of the desk. His elbows rests at the chair's arms, his fingertips touch each other. He opens his mouth, but I'm faster.

"Where's Pony? How is he?"

"Soda," Darry says tiredly. But he eyes the doctor, waiting for him to answer.

"Yes, Ponyboy Curtis," Dr. Nelson says, tapping a bunch of papers in front of him, then open them up like a book. "You brought him here at... October 31," he reads. "Suffered from shock and a concussion about a month and a half ago, lost two friends at the same time and later, acted like they was alive...hm."

"Yes," Darry says. "He thought he saw...them. Johnny, at least. His best friend."

"Hm." We wait impatiently some quiet minutes while he continue to flip through the journal. He pulls out a picture. "We took an x-ray of his head. It shows he had a very small skull fracture, apparently emerged from the trauma caused to his temple. He was very lucky it didn't do any actual damage. We couldn't see any sign of a bleeding."

It feels like a kick in the stomach. Darry slowly shakes his head. He puts his fingers on the picture, pulling it towards him. "What are you saying? "Why didn't they check this out when we were here after he got the concussion?" he accuses.

"I can't answer to that. But it's healed. Nothing to worry about. The mental health on the other hand-"

"But he's better now, right?" I hurry to say, needing to hear it. "I mean, he's been here for five fucki... five days."

Dr. Nelson smiles dryly and I want to punch him.

"Well, it's not that easy, son. We have treaten him, but of course he needs to continue his rehabilitation and medication to-"

"Wait," Darry interrupts, stops staring at the picture. "What did you say? Medication? I said when I left him I didn't want him to be drugged!"

I feel myself go cold. The man behind the desk think's he's better than us when he continue tapping his papers, the smile still taped on his face. "I wouldn't call it _drugged_, Mr. Curtis. You obviously don't understand your brother's condition. We believe that what happened to him was too much for him to handle, so he slipped into a, what we can call _acute psychosis_, or maybe _brief reactive psychosis_, were he created his own little world to live in and interact with this Johnny. Fortunately he seems to spontaneously recover from it, but he also got other issues that we've noticed. Now when he's aware of the deaths of his friends, he has got a depression, is very anxious and suffers from insomnia."

I swallow, feeling ill, remembering the book in the library. Maybe I held the answer in my hand back then, but was too afraid to face it. I look at Darry. He sits stiff in his chair, frowning at the words.

"What medication have you been given him?" he growls.

Dr. Nelson sounds almost bored. "As long a he has been here, he barely talks, sleeps or eats." He flips through his papers again, I hate those papers, while Darry and I stare at each other. I can't believe this. This, the hospital visit, was supposed to help him, but it feels like the opposit. How could Darry left him here! My brother shifts, suddenly making his face show no emotions at all when he turns forward again. I know that takes effort. I'm not able to do that. I know my dislike shines through.

"We're giving him Diazepam for his anxiety, and Nitrazepam for the insomnia," he continues.

The names tells me nothing, but I still glare at him. I can see Darry's opening and clenching his fists in his knee.

"What else?" His voice is harsh, accusing. "What else have you done for him?"

Dr. Nelson takes of his glasses, obviously affected by our hostility. "He has been in therapy, of course. A collegue of mine, Dr. Lee has taken care of his counseling. You may speak to her later if you want."

"Yeah, I do," Darry says.

XXX

_November 5 - morning_

We have still not seeing Pony, despite of being here for almost an hour. My head is spinning, I don't understand half of what Dr. Nelson tells us, but Darry nods and hums at his words. He seems more relaxed now, and I wonder what the doctor told him to get him there. I'm sure not calm. I stand by the window while the two of them talks, staring out over the street outside, when a sudden knock on the door silence the room. A woman sticks in her head.

"I'm Dr. Lee," she presents herself. "I have had therapy sessions with Ponyboy during his stay here."

She takes my seat and talks about Pony. I like her more than Dr. Nelson. She doesn't need any written words to remember my brother. She talks about him like he's a person, not only a patient.

"...the dreams he has is from his feeling of guilt. He-"

"It wasn't his fault," I interrupt, folding my arms. Just because she's better than the other, she can't say things like that. But she just smiles at me.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. Of course it wasn't his fault what happened to his friends. But it's a very normal feeling in this circumstances. As far as I know, he was in the fire with his friend and survived, and many survivors feels that way towards them who didn't make it. In Ponyboy's case these feelings turned into nightmares."

I blink. It's a relieve to hear that at least _something _in all this is normal.

She keeps talking. Darry's still listening. I look out through the window, but only fragments of words reach me even when I'm trying to pay attention. I don't want to be here anymore, I just want to grab Pony and leave.

"He has, however, not talked at all about the hallucinations of his friend, so I can't tell you if he still has them, but I doubt it. He seems a bit embarassed when I mention it, and every sign from any psychosis is lesser day by day. Apparently he was spontaneously recovering from it even before you took him here. When he finally understood that his friends was dead it was only a matter of time, but I still recommend that he will stay here so we can help him with his depression and the sorrow progress, and make sure the psychosis won't return. I'm also a bit worried about the insomnia, I want him to sleep better before I let him go. About the eating-"

"No!" I turn around, glaring at her. "He wasn't depressed until we left him here! We're takin' him home. He can't sleep here because... because he just can't." I can't tell strangers that we use to share a bed. They wouldn't understand. "He doesn't like hospitals and I think most people can't sleep in a hospital. You can't make that to one of his problems!"

"Soda," Darry begins, and I turn to him, determined.

"I'm takin' him home, Darry! I mean it. Come on, you know we can take care of him better than them!"

Dr. Lee seems disappointed. "I don't think that's a good idea," she says. "He's still only in the beginning of his treatment, and I highly doubt that _you_-"

"Darry," I say, ignoring her and her dismissive tone. "If he's depressed it's only 'cause he's here, you _know_ that!" _Please say that you agree._

Darry finally nods, and I sunk back against the window. Dr. Lee sighs and I can tell Dr. Nelson doesn't approve either, but what can they do? Darry is Pony's guardian.

"All right. I will give you prescriptions of his medicines, and I hope you'll continue the treatment at home. I also recommend further therapy," Dr. Nelson says irritated.

"He's welcome to me once a week. I'm sure I can press him in into my schedule," Dr. Lee adds, her face sour now. "I'll give you my phone number. Please call me."

"I'll get Pony. Where is he?" I head to the door, eager to finally meet him.

"That would be room 502. But you need to get a nurse."

My eyes narrows suspiciously. "Why?"

"The door is locked, of course."

* * *

><p>This will be a long AN but please take your time and read it.  
>First of all, I want to say that I DO NOT think that people with mental illnesses are crazy, and I see nothing wrong with taking medication when it's necessary. I only write Soda's thoughts (and Darry's worries) and hethey are just devastated.

Second, you are amazing! I love to write, and that's of course the reason I do it, but to get this response makes me so happy and love to write and really put effort in it even more. So thank you for reading, reviewing and/or putting this story in your favorites. Thank you so much! It means a lot to me.

Third, even since I did a few hours of research for this chapter, I'm not a doctor. Some things I may have misunderstood, and some things I needed to change just to fit in the story, but I've really tried to make this as close to reality as possible. (I still don't know much about psychiatric wards in the sixties so I made all that up)

Short about psychosis  
><em>Stress is known to contribute to and trigger psychotic states<em>._ A history of psychologically traumatic events_, and the recent experience of a stressful event, can both contribute to the development of psychosis. Short-lived psychosis triggered by stress is known_ as brief reactive psychosis, and patients may spontaneously recover normal functioning within two weeks._  
>Psychosis is given to the more severe forms of psychiatric disorder, during which hallucinations and delusions and impaired insight may occur<br>_Hallucinations (...) to experiences such as seeing and interacting with fully formed animals and people, hearing voices,_and having complex tactile sensations.

The medication (both are benzodiazepines) actually existed at the time. Diazepam came in 1963 (This story takes place in 1966 like the book, Pony was born 22 july 1952) and was also called valium. I chosed to use this in the story, even if it shouldn't be taken by kids and by people with psychosis. This is fanfiction and, the medicin was new. Maybe they didn't knew all things about it back then.  
>Nitrazepam (or mogadon or a lot of different names, since I don't know which is most common or was used in the sixties I just picked one) wasis used to treat short-term sleeping problems (insomnia) namely difficulty falling asleep, frequent awakening, early awakenings, or a combination of each. Side effects can be drowsiness, dizziness, confusion etc. Even here, when I read about it, it shouldn't been given to children or people with depression, but... yeah, fanfic and the sixties.  
>Most facts are from Wikipedia and other sites I have forgot, and I'm sorry for all mistakes or errors. (If you know things about this and wants to correct me, please do) Like I said, I'm not a doctor, and I HOPE this chapter came out realistic even after I changed some stuff from the reality.<p> 


	16. Don't say you're sorry

_If this feels a bit confusing first, I suggest you to re-read the very beginning of this story - it actually starts with November 5, Soda meeting Ponyboy at the hospital. This chapter takes_ _place right after the first paragraph in Chapter 1._ _**  
><strong>_

**A Place Deep Within**

**Sixteenth Chapter - Don't say you're sorry**

_November 5 - morning_

I watch him smoke. He's pale, the dark circles under his eyes stands out against his skin. I notice his hand trembles a bit. He gives me a confused expression when I say we're going home.

"Oh." He takes another drag on the cigarette. "Now?"

"Yeah." I don't know how to act. Pony's so different than he use to be. If everything had been normal, I had rushed into the room once the door opened up, bounced around, grabbed him along in a swift moment. But this is not normal, and everything feels too slow, too quiet. I can't be myself in here. I don't belong here, and neither do Pony.

"I'm dizzy," he says. "They give me these... these...um... pills." I don't say anything, just curse them in my head. "Don't know if I can stand up, Soda," he mumbles.

"Come on," I say. "I'll hold ya."

He glides down from the bed. He wears a t-shirt and a pair of black pyjama pants, and I look around, but his room is empty of everything else. There's only a bed and white walls.

"What did you mean, Johnny's doctor?" I have to ask while we leave the room. I hope he's not back in denial again. Because they said...

"I was just thinkin'. He was here. This morning."

"Johnny's doctor?"

He leans heavy on my arm, his other hand still holds the cigarette. He nods. "Yeah. He told me about him... Johnny... why he... died."

"He did?"

"Mhm. He was nice."

"What about yours?" I stop, and he glance at me. "Pone... everythin's okay? Have your doctors been nice to you?"

He shrugs. "I guess."

"Pony..."

He knows what I want. "Yeah, they're nice, " he says. We stand in the middle of the corridor, locked doors in the walls at both ways. I'm really not sure why he was locked in. Why they would lock anyone in at a place like this. The nurse's word for it was _safety_ when I asked, but safety from what, I can't tell. I doubt anyone in here is dangerous. They're just kids. "There's this... um... she talks a lot. Wants me to do it... talk. But I don't know..." His voice trails off. I know he doesn't like to talk to strangers. And even if I'm bad thinking it, I'm glad he didn't spoke to Dr. Lee instead of me.

"You mean Dr. Lee? What about Dr. Nelson?"

Pony takes a last drag, and I take the cigarette from him. I put it out on my sole before throwing it on the floor. I can't see any trash bins.

"Yeah... I don't know, Soda... I didn't see him much."

"We can talk more when we get home," I tell him, seing how uncomfortable he is and nudge at his arm. "Let's meet up with Darry and get outta here."

Pony smiles, and we start walking. We have almost reached the door to the waiting room when someone shouts behind us. I want to take Pony and run, afraid that the voice wants to stop me from taking him out from here, but when I turn around to glare, I recognize her. It's the nurse. She holds a bag in her hands.

"It's his things," she says, a bit taken aback by my expression. She's handing them to me. "Good bye, Ponyboy." She's not much older than us.

"Bye." His gaze are on the floor. The nurse smiles at me and walks away, and Pony and I continues at our direction.

In the waiting room I push him down in a chair. I find his shoes and jacket in the bag, and help him to put them on.

"Are you sure we can go?" he whispers to me.

XXX

_November 5 - morning_

I sit in the backseat with him. Darry observes us through the rear mirror while driving, a light frown at his forhead.

"How is he?" he asks, and I have lost my count on how many times he has uttered those words. Otherwise, he's been unusually quiet since he met up with us.

"Asleep." I grin at him. "So much for insomnia, right?" I knew they were wrong.

We reach our house, Darry pulls up our car on the driveway, and I have an odd feeling of déjà vu when he picks up and carries our brother into our home. He has done that once before. Then we got our brother home from Windrixville, from the fire, bleached in hair and dirty from the smoke. Then we were just happy to have him back. Alive. This time... I'm still scared. I hope this hasn't destroyed more than what it gained.

Darry puts Pony on our bed, I drape a quilt over him, and then we both sits down in the couch. It feels like a whole day has passed since we left, but when I watch the clock, it's still morning. I lean back, closing my eyes.

"That was a stupid thing to do," I say with emphasis.

"Bring him home?" Darry sounds surprised, and I look up.

"What? No! I mean the whole thing with the hospital." I gesture with my hand. "You shouldn't have left him there. They didn't do nothin', Darry. They said so themselves, he was already out of that... ya know." I can't even say it. Darry seems hurt, but I can't help but accuse him a bit.

"We had no choice, Soda. You're forgettin' about the state." His voice is strain. But he's right. I do. So I just sigh, closing my eyes again. I should apologize to him, but I can't. Ponyboy's school told us, threaten us to get help, but I'm not sure this was what they had in mind. We shouldn't be so scared of them.

"But they can't hurt us now, can they?" I ask. I don't know if I mean the school, the state, the hospital or all three, I just have a bad feeling for this.

"I hope not."

I look up for a second time when I hear the rustle of paper. Darry has them in his hands, stares at them, then suddenly rips them apart.

"What was that?"

"The prescriptions."

"Oh." I bite my lip. "Can he just stop takin' the pills?"

Darry nods. "Yeah. He shouldn't be withdrawal, he's taken them for a so short while." He takes the pieces and dents them into a ball. "I can't believe they crammed him full of that shit." He goes up and disappears into the kitchen. I hear how he slams with the cabins, and suddenly I feel how hungry I am. I'm just about to shout to Darry when I hear something. It's Pony.

"Soda?" He appears in the living room, clutching his body with thin arms.

"Hey, Pone!" I rise, trying to keep the concern out from my voice. "What is it?" I lay my hand on his shoulder, feeling the bones underneath. They said he didn't eat, I remember. "You hungry?"

"A little."

I take his hand and drags him along, and this time, he seems more steady on his feet. Darry smiles when we step into the kitchen, placing a plate with sandwiches in front of us. When we eat, Darry and I talk about everything except the hospital. Pony seems happy. A bit tired perhaps, but I recognize him as my brother. Maybe it's true, maybe we soon can leave all this behind us.

XXX

_November 6 - evening_

Pony's still asleep. After we had finished our meal yesterday, he crawled to bed again, asking me to join him, and I did. I had a feeling he didn't wanted to be alone. I called in sick today to stay home with him. I don't even know if he really notice that I'm here - he only wakes up now and then to stumble to the bathroom, or when I wake him up to give him food - because afterwards he just hides under the cover again, without a word. I sit on the bedside, watching him when Darry comes home from work.

"Hi," he says from the doorway, pulling his jacket off. "Everything's all right?"

"Think so," I say. "He has slept all day."

Darry frowns. "Has he eaten some?"

"Yeah," I say, and that's true. He did eat all I gave him, a sandwich, a bowl of soup, a bowl of cereals. It's not much for any other of us, but for Pony it is. At least these days, since Windrixville.

"Good." He looks uncomfortable, and I wonder why. He has been distant towards me, like he's thinking of something he refuses to tell me. I hope it has nothing to do with Pony.

He leaves, and I turn my gaze back to the sleeping form again. He looks peaceful. I want to keep him this way forever, and that scares me. I know I can't lock him in. I don't want that either. But I also know that we soon must throw him out in the world again. And that scares me even more.

XXX

_Nine years ago - spring_

_"We have to tell Pony," I say, staring at the dead bird. Three days ago, it flew right into the kitchen window, and since then, it has lived in a shoe box in the back yard. But sometimes today, it just died. _

_Steve stands with his hands deep down in his pockets, kicking lightly into the grass. "It's not his bird," he says, annoyed._

_"He's the one feedin' it," I say. "He named him Chirpy."_

_"Stupid name, "Steve replies. "It's a fuckin' crow. They don't chirp. They croak."_

_"Doesn't matter, he's gonna be sad anyway." I sit down on my heels, poking at the black feathers. It's really dead._

_A car door slams, and we hear running feet. Pony rounds the corner of the house, his cheeks are red._

_"How's Chirpy?" he says, staring down at the box. "Why is he lyin' like that?"_

_The bird is on its side, the thin legs sticks stiffened out from the body._

_"It's dead, can't you see?" Steve blurts out. I push at him, afraid Pony's gonna cry. But he doesn't. He sits down beside me._

_"Poor, poor Chirpy," he says. "I'm sorry!"_

_"It wasn't your fault Pony," I comfort him. "Maybe he was old."_

_"No, he was just a baby, " Pony tells me. _

_"He wasn't, " Steve snorts. "How can you tell?"_

_"We havta bury him," Pony says, ignoring Steve. "That's what you do when someone dies." He gets up and leaves us for the garage, coming back with a small, red shovel. But it's too early in the spring, the ground's too hard. Pony sink to his knees, biting his lip while trying to dig a hole for his bird. He gives up, throwing the shovel away. _

_"We can ask Darry," I say, knowing that Dad's still at work and Mom's gonna start with the dinner soon. I get him, and he comes, glad to be extracted from his homework. He digs the shallow grave in the corner of the lawn, and we put the crow in it, cover it with dirt. Then we lay early spring flowers on top._

_"Where's Chirpy now?" Pony asks me, staring at the resting place._

_"He's in bird heaven."_

_"Is that a good place?"_

_"Yup. He can fly and eat and be a bird or an angel," I say. "A bird angel."_

_Pony seems to think. "Oh," he says after a while. "Does he have four wings then?"_

_I shrug. "Dunno."_

_"Bye, Chirpy," Pony says. "I'm gonna visit him every day," he tells us. And we all do, for a week. Then we starts to forget about him, distracted by other things and games. Like kids do.  
><em>

XXX_  
><em>

_November 7 - evening_

I'm thankful for Two-Bit. We can't miss more work, but leave Pony alone is not an option. So when our friend turned up this morning, we didn't even had to ask. He just pushed Darry and I out onto the porch and slammed the door.

I step inside after a long day at the DX, finding him in our recliner, holding a magazine in his hands. Pony lays on the couch, eyes closed. He doesn't look up when I greet them. I throw my jacket at the little table beside the door and miss. My shoes lands in the corner when I kick them off.

"Whazzup?" Two-Bit says, dumping the magazine on the coffe table. "I'm bored."

"Why? Is he asleep?" I look at Pony with concern.

"Whole day long," Two-Bit says, confirming my suspicion. "Hey, Kiddo!" He leans forward, pushing at Pony's leg. "Wake up, Soda's home."

Pony shifts, then rolls around, almost falling to the floor, but he catch himself before. He sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"Hi Soda."

I plop down beside him, watching him. He looks better today. I glance up at Two-Bit, who slowly makes his way to the front door.

"I should go," he says, giving a quick grin. "Se y'all tomorrow."

I want Pony to talk to me, and I bet he knows. He breaks the silence first.

"Where's Darry?"

"At work. He'll be home in a few hours," I say. "I'm sorry we have to work, Pone."

"It's okay." He knows we have to. He open his mouth, then close it again.

"What is it?" I ask, and he looks away.

"I want to visit them, Soda."

I feel shivers down my spine, and his face goes red when he sees my expression. "Damn it, Soda, I mean their graves. I know they're dead. I can say it! I already did before you took me to the hospital ya know. Dead, dead, dead! Johnny's dead and Dally got shot, okay! I saw them, I know-"

I grab his arm. "Ponyboy, please..."

"I'm sorry!" he says softly, trying to shuffle away from me. "Okay?"

I release him, slowly let go of my breath. "You don't have to say you're sorry, it wasn't your fault, " I say to him.

"But it was, Soda. I mean, I should've known all the time. You, you just don't forget things like that." He shakes his head, fast. "I mean, deep inside, I think I knew all the time, ya know. I must have. Because he died, right in front of me. Johnny. They both did. I remember everythin' now, Soda. Johnny just... died. And he looked... and Dally ran and the police... and I_ forgot_ it. What kind of friend does that, Soda?"

"Pony... you didn't forget! You were sick. They explained it to us."

"But... it can happen again, can't it?" He sounds worried. "I can forget it again?"

"No, you can't," I assure him. "You're fine, Pony."

"I know they're dead," he says, and his voice is so hollow. "I just wish they wasn't."

I lean my head on his. "Me too, Pony."

When Darry comes home Pony's alseep again, his head in my lap. I try not to worry about his tiredness, figure he just needs to catch up lost sleep. Darry sits down, rubbing his knee.

"How is he?"

"He's okay." I stare at him. "Darry, tell me."

"I bruised my knee at work."

I raise my eyebrows. He knows damn well I don't mean his knee. "Somethin's buggin' you. Is it somethin' about Ponyboy?"

"No."

"Then what is it? Darry, you gotta tell me, cause if it is about Pony-"

He hides his face in his hands. "It's not Pony. It's me."

"You?"

"Yeah..." He takes a deep breath. "It was my fault, Soda."

"Don't go there again, Dar. You shouldn't have hit him, but it was the Socs who-"

He interrupts me. "Not that." He looks up, his face is red. "It was my fault that he got sick."

* * *

><p>Next chapter is The Last One... and reviews are always nice :) Thanks!<p> 


	17. Unspoken

**A Place Deep Within**

**Seventeenth Chapter - Unspoken  
><strong>

_November 7 - evening_

"It wasn't." He doesn't answer first, so I try again. "It wasn't, Darry. Why would you think that?"

"I pushed him too hard. I was about to send him to school."

"So?"

He stands up. "Apparently he wasn't ready for that. You know what happened."

"So you mean it was the school's fault?"

He snorts at this. "No." He hesitates just for a minute more, then the words streams out of him. "I asked Dr. Nelson how Pony suddenly could be so sick when he was fine the day before. And he asked me if there was something that could've triggered it. Something we said or did or... and all I can think of that when he got sick, it was the day he should go back to school."

I think it over. "That doesn't make it your fault Dar. Maybe that wasn't even the cause," I say, but he shakes his head.

"I should've seen it. I'm his guardian. I should've seen he wasn't ready."

I lean back, rolling my eyes at him. "Stop talkin' like that. It was nobodys fault. If you want to blame someone, blame the Socs that jumped him and Johnny that night. They started it. But that doesn't matter, does it? It doesn't matter if you blame them or yourself or me or anyone, it ain't gonna change nothin', Dar. Just... please, just drop it."

A long moment pass before he finally nods, but I know he doesn't agree with me. He's too good at blame himself.

XXX

_November 10 - day_

We borrow Two-Bit's car and drive to the cemetery. It has snowed all night, three inches of white covers the ground, but that doesn't stop us. First we make it to Mom and Dad, brush off the snow from their headstone and stands in silent thoughts for a while, before I show Pony to Johnny's and Dally's place. We're walking slow, almost hesitating, Pony one step behind me all way. They are buried beside each other, and Pony stares at the spot. There's nothing.

"Where are the stones?" he asks, bewildered.

"They don't have any," I tell him smoothly, regretting I didn't told him before we got here. Both their parents are too poor, too not caring about their sons. Pony knows this too.

"Oh." He ignores the snow, sitting down on his heels with his hands on his knees. "It ain't right," he says.

"I know," I agree. But what can we do? We don't have the money either.

"What am I supposed to do?" Pony asks low. "I... when I talked to him before, it wasn't just..." he gestures at the empty space in the line of graves. If it had been summer, it had been grass and flowers, but now, it's nothing. It's unworthy them. They deserve more. They were our friends. They were heroes.

"It ain't any different than when you talk to Mom and Dad," I say to him. "If you want to talk to him... just do it."

He watch me for a while, then turns to the grave again.

"Um... hi, Johnny..." His voice is thin, a bit shaky. I take a few steps away, giving him the air I know he needs.

I find a bench and sit down. I'm smoking when Pony approach me ten minutes later. His eyes are red, and he reach out a hand. I give him the pack and my lighter, and he shakes out a stick and lights it.

"I wanna go to school on Monday," he says, blowing out. "I think I'm ready."

This is not something I had expected from him. "You sure?"

"Yeah." He sits down beside me. "I have to go back sometime, don't I?"

"Only if you want to, Pone." I'm sure Darry won't say anything if he wants to stay home a bit longer.

"I want to. I will have a lot of work to catch up with anyways." The smoke from our cigarettes whirls in the air. I used to smoke only when something worried me, or just before a fight, but the last time I've smoked so much I'm almost like Pony. I toss the butt away, seeing it disappear in a snowdrift.

"I was thinkin'..." Pony starts. "I can talk to him even if I... I mean, I don't have to_ see _him to talk to him, right?" He looks to the left, to the graves some distance away.

"You don't," I agree. "You can talk to him whenever you want."

"You know what I said, before the hospital and everythin'?"

"What about it?" It's the first time he mention it since he got home.

"I don't want that anymore."

"What?"

"See him. I don't want that. I did, but I don't anymore. I promise, Soda. I don't."

"Pone..."

"He's not alive, Soda. That's why." He turns to me. "Can we go home now?"

XXX

_November 12 - morning_

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to."

"Ponyboy..."

"Stop it, Darry!" Pony shoves down his math book in the school bag. "It's fine!" He briefly meets my eyes where I stand behind Darry in the doorway to the bedroom, before he turns to our older brother again. "I won't get sick again."

"All right," Darry finally says. "But tell me if-"

"I will, but I won't!" Pony push Darry aside and leaves the room without looking back. I hear him talk to Two-Bit before he yells a good bye, and the front door slams. Darry looks at me.

"I don't know about this," he says, rubbing his chin. He has argued with Pony all morning, hasn't even taken the time to dress himself. "What if it's too soon?"

"Then we have to deal with it later." I sit down on the bed. I do agree with Darry, but I know it's only because I want to protect Pony. But I also know that he needs this. He must live his life. We can't help him with that, and I tell Darry this.

"Yeah," he says, then looks down at his pyjamas. "I need to get dressed."

"You need to shave too," I enlighten him, and then I grin. It only takes a second before he smiles back. I think we both know Pony going back to school can be a good sign, after all.

XXX

_November 12 - evening_

"It went okay?" I have been eager to know all day, and I ask even if I can see the answer on his face. It's calm.

"Yeah." He sits at the kitchen table, books and papers spread all over. He tap with his pencil. "No one said anythin'." But the way he says that make me understand he didn't escaped the glances.

"So... how are ya feelin'?" I eye him, hoping he will be honest with me.

"I'm okay." He smiles at me. "Really, Soda, I'm fine. Stop lookin' at me like that."

I sit down in front of him. "I'm just worried, Pony."

"I know." He writes something down, erase it, starts over. "You don't have to."

It's not easy to admit, but I can see that the hospital helped him more than I thought it would. I almost have my kid brother back.

"When you're big enough to have your own kids, you'll understand," I tease him, making him laugh.

XXX

_December 14- evening_

Pony stands in the doorway to the kitchen, school bag in his hand.

"I was failing english," he sighs. I turn away from the stove.

"You was?"

He walks to the table, throw himself down in a chair. "I wrote this... a theme." He picks up a bunch of papers from the bag. I raise my eyebrows at the sight.

"You wrote all that?"

"Mhm." He puts his elbows on the table, rests his chin in his hands. "It's about everythin'. Almost. What happened."

I feel uncertain. "Are you sure, Pone?" I don't know if it's a good idea that someone outside our gang knows about our life. Especially grown ups. Especially someone in Pony's school.

"It's just my english teacher. I trust him. He said he would give me a C if I turned in a good theme."

"You wrote about it all?" I ask, a bit worried. He strokes the papers with one hand.

"I kinda left out the sick part," he says. I know he still feels a bit ashamed over it. We keep telling him he doesn't have to feel that way, but that's not enough. He lost some school friends after everything in the park, with Bob Sheldon, and even if he doesn't talk about it, I know he lost more, if not all, after his psychosis. He didn't have that many to start with either. He hasn't told anyone what was wrong with him, but they don't need a name for it to know it anyway. But at least he has the gang. I know Two-Bit and Steve still watch his back in school.

"Okay," I say, waiting.

"And I got an A," he smiles, holding up the first page. The letter A is written in the top corner with a bright red color. I'm proud of him.

XXX

_May 10- day_

The spring air is warm, and we're heading to the lot, a football stuck under Darry's arm. It's the first time we will play since we lost them, but it feels like we have to. We must keep living. Pony joins with Darry and Two-Bit, and of course, Steve and I are the other team. I think we all feels it at first, the awkward absence of our friends, but as the game goes on, we're having fun. Steve curse when Darry makes another touch down, making his team lead. Pony laughs. His hair shines red in the sun, finally rid of all the blonde. It's still too short for his liking, but he looks healthy. I bet he has grown a bit during the months, and I know he has gained weight. He's still small, still thin, but not as much as before. Track are good for him, and Darry make sure he eats and studies, his grades are slowly going upwards. It was a time we thought he would have to repeat the year, but good teachers and lots of work have made him manage to push up his grades to a level that satisfies both him and Darry. He's still struggling, we all know, but everything's getting better each day. For all of us.

"Two-Bit, put that down," Darry says, tossing the ball to Pony. Our sideburned friend grasp a beer bottle by its neck.

"Aw, Darry, it's just fair for Soda and Steve," he tries. "We're two and they're two."

"We're three, Two-Bit." Darry folds his arms. "Wouldv'e thought all those years in high school had learned you some math."

"You're one," Two-Bit explains, pointing. "Pony's a half, and me, with only one hand avalible-" he waggle with his free one,"-is a half. That makes two." He grins, raising an eyebrow.

Darry laughs and shakes his head, but Pony grumps. "I'm not a half."

"Sure you are, kiddo." Two-Bit takes a sip, just to spill all over his t-shirt when Pony throws the ball at him.

I stretch my back, watching what's left of our gang. Darry adjusts his shoelace when Two-Bit takes a few steps to the outskirt, to put his bottle down on the pavement. I guess he doesn't want to lose any more beer, and I chuckle to myself. Steve picks up the ball, it bounced against Two-Bit to land in the grass beneath his feet. And then I see Pony.

He stands still, a sudden smile appears on his face as he makes a small, almost unnoticeable wave with his hand. Like he greet someone, but it's only us here. It could be him waving away a fly, I think, absent-mindedly, when he takes a step back, turns around and discovers me looking at him. Even from this distant I can see how he pales, how a terrified look shows up in his eyes for a moment. It quickly turns to a plead, and he looks devastated, mouths a soundless _Soda_, and I don't really understand. I think I don't want to, but then the truth grips my heart, freezing my blood cold inside.

He looked at the tree.

I know I have to go to him, grab his arm, shake him, force him to _tell me_ when it never stopped, why he never told us. I know I have to shout to Darry to come, to take over, 'cause I'm not sure I can handle this once more.

We can't start it all over, with the sickness, the silence, the guilt, the worries. How can we let it take over our lives again, when we thought we had it behind us? _It's been six months_, I want to shout at my youngest brother. _Six fuckin' months_, and everything should be okay by now. It _was_ okay. We all knew it. Thought it was. But apparently, it's not, and I know I can't keep it a secret. I have to tell Darry. Call the hospital. Ask them what we did wrong, we must've done something wrong. We never asked him if it stopped, I realize. We just assumed.

But it seems like I can't move. Our eyes are locked into each other. He doesn't want this. I don't want this. He still pleads me without words, looking like a deer catched in the highlight, and maybe I do too.

My thoughts race. I can take us back in time again. Or-

"Soda! Catch!" Steve shouts, all sudden, making me jerk, and we all are in the game again. The ball is thrown high in the air, and I stretch out my arms. I catch it. And then I run. I run to the other side of the field. I avoid Darry, I make a touch down. Our teams are equal again, and Pony stands closest. His eyes are empty now, his fingers curls around each other. He looks so nervous. So scared. I don't want him that way. I can't stand it. So I fling my arm around him, to whisper in his ear.

"It's okay, Pone," I soothe him, and his body relax under my arm. "Don't tell," I add, not sure what I mean. If it's me who don't want to hear the words, or if it's Darry who can't know. I think it's both. Pony smiles briefly, relieved, but still uncertain.

"It didn't happen," I whisper, and he nods, agrees with me, agrees with the lie. It didn't happen.

-Or I can pretend. I can believe it was just him wavering away a fly. I can pretend everything is fine, until it really is. Maybe it is. Maybe I'm wrong.

I hope.

So I stay quiet.

XXX

_Before it happened - summer  
><em>

_We're playing football at the lot, all seven of us. The gang. Darry's here, and I, and Ponyboy. Steve has his arm slunged over my shoulders, telling me about his last night with Evie. I'm glad that he whispers, cause his words are not meant for Pony's ears. Two-Bit stumbles and falls when he tries to catch the ball. Pony's laughing along with Johnny. Dally smirks. He stands a bit outside our marked up field, taking a last drag of his smoke before tossing it into the grass. Then his arms flies up._

_"Hey, Two-Bit!"_

_And Two-Bit throws the ball at him even if they're not in the same team, cause Two-Bit always forgets who's with who, and Dally knows how to take advantage of it. Dally makes a touch down in front of Johnny, then gently shoves him out of the way. Johnny smiles at this.  
><em>

_We didn't know it then, but the two of them had only one month left to live._

_I still remember how we laughed._

_I still remember how we felt. We weren't poor that day. We weren't only five. We weren't sick. We weren't dead. We weren't heroes. It weren't us against the world. We were only young boys, having fun, in the end of the summer._

**~The End~**

* * *

><p>The endings are always the hardest to write, I think, and this was no exception. I really hope this chapter lived up to your expectations. And I'm sorry, but I won't write any sequel to this story. I feel that it has to end here, and to continue it would just not work. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and please, leave a final thought. I really appreciate it, as you already know :)<p> 


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